.I'f.'l'l-*'  II 


FROM  THE 
LIBRARY  OF 


WILLIAM 

AND  ANNE 
HABBERLEY 

M.,|......,j;..ytt^..., 


KNEBIVORTH  LIMITED    EDITION 


LEILA 


OR 


THE    SIEGE    OF    GRANADA 
PAUSANIAS    THE   SPARTAN 

BY 

EDWARD  BULWER  LYTTON 

(LORD   LYTTON  J 


WITH     ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON 

ESTES    AND     LAURIAT 
1892 


"^^-^^  J^U^ 


KNEBIVORTH   LIMITED   EDITION. 

Limited  to  One  Thousand  Copies. 

N0...59.5. 


^^^K/^-^t:!^^ 


^/^ 


TYPOGRAPHY,  ELECTROTYPING,  AND 
PRINTING  BY  JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON, 
UNIVERSITY  PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


TO 

THE    RIGHT    HONOURABLE 

THE    COUNTESS    OF    BLESSINGTON, 
Eijijs  Cale  is  ©etiicatetj, 

BY    ONE 

WHO  WISHES  HE  COULD   HAVE  FOUND  A  MORE  DURABLE  MONUMENT 
WHEREON    TO    ENGRAVE 

A  MEMORIAL  OF  REAL  FRIENDSHIP. 


m531j8S9 


CONTENTS. 


LEILA;  OR,  THE  SIEGE  OF  GRANADA. 

»Ofe  I. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Page 
The  Enchanter  and  the  Warrior 1 

CHAPTER  n. 
The  King  withit  his  Palace 5 

CHAPTER  m. 
The  Lovers 13 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Father  and  Daughter 17 

CHAPTER  V. 
Ambition  Distorted  into  Vice  by  Law 20 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Lion  in  the  Net 27 


VI  CONTENTS. 

»0b   II. 

CHAPTER  I.  p^g^ 

The  Royal  Tent  of  Spain.  —  The  King  and  the  Dominican. — The  Visi- 
tor and  the  Hostage 30 

CHAPTER  n. 
The  Ambush,  the  Strife,  and  the  Capture 40 

CHAPTER  HI. 
The  Hero  in  the  Power  of  the  Dreamer 51 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  Fuller  View  of  the  Character  of  Boabdil.  —  Muza  in  the  Gardens 

of  his  Beloved 60 

CHAPTER  V. 
Boabdil's  Reconciliation  with  his  People 64 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Leila.  —  Her  New  Lover.  —  Portrait  of  the  First  Inquisitor  of  Spain.  — 

The  Chalice  returned  to  the  Lips  of  Almamen       66 

CHAPTER  Vn.                     • 
The  Tribunal  and  the  Miracle 74 


llBoofe  III. 

CHAPTER  I. 
Isabel  and  the  Jewish  Maiden 80 

CHAPTER  II. 
The  Temptation  of  the  Jewess.  —  In  which  the  History  passes  from  the 

Outward  to  the  Internal 84 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Hour  and  the  Man 91 


CONTENTS.  vii 

51500k  IV. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Fage 

Leila  in  the  Castle.  —  The  Siege 95 

CHAPTER  n. 

Almamen's    Proposed    Enterprise.  —  The  Three  Israelites.  —  Circum- 
stance Impresses  each  Character  with  a  Varying  Die 101 

CHAPTER  m. 
The  Fugitive  and  the  Meeting 105 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Almamen  Hears  and  Sees,  but  refuses  to  Believe ;  for  the  Brain,  over- 
wrought, grows  Dull,  even  in  the  Keenest 110 

CHAPTER  V. 
In  the  Ferment  of  Great  Events  the  Dregs  rise 115 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Boabdil's  Return.  —  The  Reappearance  of  Ferdinand  before  Granada    .     121 

CHAPTER  Vn. 
The  Conflagration.  —  The  Majesty  of  an  Individual  Passion  in  the  midst 

of  Hostile  Thousands 123 


Boofe  V. 

CHAPTER  I. 
The  Great  Battle 127 

CHAFPER  n. 
The  Novice 137 

CHAPTER  m. 
The  Pause  between  Defeat  and  Surrender 145 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IV.  j.^^^ 

The  Adventure  of  the  Solitary  Horseman 152 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Sacrifice 158 

CHAPTER  VI. 
TheReturn.  — The  Riot. —The  Treachery.  — And  the  Death      ...     162 

CHAPTER  VII. 
TheEnd 170 


PAUSANIAS    THE    SPARTAN. 

Page 

Dedication 179 


llBoofe  I. 

Chapter  1 193 

Chapter  II 208 

Chapter  III 217 

Chapter  IV 221 

Chapter  V 235 


Book   II. 

Chapter  I 245 

Chapter  II 253 

Chapter  III 264 

Chapter  IV 268 

Chapter  V. 276 

Chapter  VI 281 


CONTENTS.  ix 

Book  III. 

Page 

Chapter  L 289 

Chapter  II 302 

Chapter  III 305 

Chapter  IV 310 

Chapter  V 321 

Chapter  VL 324 

Chapter  VII 327 


li500fe    IV. 

Chapter  1 337 

Chapter  II 341 

Chapter  III 346 

Chapter  IV 349 

Chapter  V 356 

Chapter  VI 357 

Chapter  VII 366 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Geneeal  View  of  the   Alhambra  from  the  Tower  of  page 

HoMENAJE Frontispiece 

Hall  of  the  Divans,  the  Alhambra 17 

Palace  of  the  Moorish  Queens 80 

Court  of  the  Lions 110 

Entrance  to  the  Hall  of  the  Ambassadors 146 

Garden  and  Tower  of  Comares 158 

General  View  of  the  Alhambra  from  St.  Nicholas  Square  170 


LEILA;  OR,  THE   SIEGE   OF   GRANADA 


LEILA; 

OB, 

THE    SIEGE    OF    GRAISTADA. 


BOOK    I. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  ENCHANTER   AND   THE   WARRIOR. 

It  was  the  summer  of  the  year  1491,  and  the  armies  of 
Perdinand  and  Isabel  invested  the  city  of  Granada. 

The  night  was  not  far  advanced;  and  the  moon,  which 
broke  through  the  transparent  air  of  Andalusia,  shone  calmly 
over  the  immense  and  murmuring  encampment  of  the  Spanish 
foe,  and  touched  with  a  hazy  light  the  snow-capped  summits 
of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  contrasting  the  verdure  and  luxuriance 
which  no  devastation  of  man  could  utterly  sweep  from  the 
beautiful  vale  below. 

In  the  streets  of  the  Moorish  city  many  a  group  still  lin- 
gered. Some,  as  if  unconscious  of  the  beleaguering  war 
without,  were  listening  in  quiet  indolence  to  the  strings  of 
the  Moorish  lute  or  the  lively  tale  of  an  Arabian  improvisa- 
tor; others  were  conversing  with  such  eager  and  animated 
gestures  as  no  ordinary  excitement  could  wring  from  the 
stately  calm  habitual  to  every  Oriental  people.  But  the 
more  public  places,  in  which  gathered  these  different  groups, 
only  the  more  impressively  heightened  the  desolate  and  sol- 
emn repose  that  brooded  over  the  rest  of  the  city. 

At  this  time  a  man,  with  downcast  eyes,  and  arms  folded 
within  the  sweeping  gown  which  descended  to  his  feet,  was 


2  LEILA. 

seen  passing  througli  the  streets,  alone,  and  apparently  unob- 
servant of  all  around  him.  Yet  this  indifference  was  by  no 
means  shared  by  the  struggling  crowds  through  which,  from 
time  to  time,  he  musingly  swept. 

"God  is  great!"  said  one  man;  "it  is  the  Enchanter 
Almamen." 

"  He  hath  locked  up  the  manhood  of  Boabdil  el  Chico  with 
the  key  of  his  spells,"  quoth  another,  stroking  his  beard;  "I 
would  curse  him,  if  I  dared." 

"  But  they  say  that  he  hath  promised  that  when  man  fails, 
the  genii  will  fight  for  Granada, "  observed  a  third,  doubtingly. 

"  Allah  Akbar !  what  is,  is ;  what  shall  be,  shall  be ! "  said 
a  fourth,  with  all  the  solemn  sagacity  of  a  prophet. 

Whatever  their  feelings,  whether  of  awe  or  execration, 
terror  or  hope,  each  group  gave  way  as  Almamen  passed,  and 
hushed  the  murmurs  not  intended  for  his  ear.  Passing 
through  the  Zacatin  (the  street  which  traversed  the  Great 
Bazaar),  the  reputed  enchanter  ascended  a  narrow  and  wind- 
ing street,  and  arrived  at  last  before  the  walls  that  encircled 
the  palace  and  fortress  of  the  Alhambra. 

The  sentry  at  the  gate  saluted  and  admitted  him  in  silence ; 
and  in  a  few  moments  his  form  was  lost  in  the  solitude  of 
groves,  amidst  which  at  frequent  openings  the  spray  of 
Arabian  fountains  glittered  in  the  moonlight;  while  above 
rose  the  castled  heights  of  the  Alhambra;  and  on  the  right, 
those  Vermilion  Towers  whose  origin  veils  itself  in  the  farth- 
est ages  of  Phoenician  enterprise. 

Almamen  paused,  and  surveyed  the  scene.  "Was  Aden 
more  lovely?"  he  muttered;  "and  shall  so  fair  a  spot  be 
trodden  by  the  victor  Nazarene?  What  matters?  Creed 
chases  creed,  race,  race,  until  time  comes  back  to  its  starting- 
place,  and  beholds  the  reign  restored  to  the  eldest  faith  and 
the  eldest  tribe.     The  horn  of  our  strength  shall  be  exalted." 

At  these  thoughts  the  seer  relapsed  into  silence,  and  gazed 
long  and  intently  upon  the  stars,  as,  more  numerous  and  bril- 
liant with  every  step  of  the  advancing  night,  their  rays  broke 
on  the  playful  waters,  and  tinged  with  silver  the  various  and 
.breathless  foliage.     So  earnest  was  his  gaze,  and  so  absorbed 


LEILA.  3 

his  thoughts,  that  he  did  not  perceive  the  approach  of  a  Moor, 
whose  glittering  weapons  and  snow-white  turban,  rich  with 
emeralds,  cast  a  gleam  through  the  wood. 

The  new-comer  was  above  the  common  size  of  his  race,  — 
generally  small  and  spare,  —  but  without  attaining  the  lofty 
stature  and  large  proportions  of  the  more  redoubted  of  the  war- 
riors of  Spain.  But  in  his  presence  and  mien  there  was  some- 
thing which,  in  the  haughtiest  conclave  of  Christian  chivalry, 
would  have  seemed  to  tower  and  command.  He  walked  with 
a  step  at  once  light  and  stately,  as  if  it  spurned  the  earth;  and 
in  the  carriage  of  the  small  erect  head  and  stag-like  throat 
there  was  that  indefinable  and  imposing  dignity  which  accords 
so  well  with  our  conception  of  a  heroic  lineage  and  a  noble 
though  imperious  spirit.  The  stranger  approached  Almamen, 
and  paused  abruptly  when  within  a  few  steps  of  the  enchanter. 
He  gazed  upon  him  in  silence  for  some  moments ;  and  when  at 
length  he  spoke,  it  was  with  a  cold  and  sarcastic  tone. 

"Pretender  to  the  dark  secrets,"  said  he,  "is  it  in  the  stars 
that  thou  art  reading  those  destinies  of  men  and  nations  which 
the  Prophet  wrought  by  the  chieftain's  brain  and  the  soldier's 
arm?" 

"Prince,"  replied  Almamen,  turning  slowly,  and  recogniz- 
ing the  intruder  on  his  meditations,  "  I  was  but  considering 
how  many  revolutions,  which  have  shaken  earth  to  its  centre, 
those  orbs  have  witnessed,  un sympathizing  and  unchanged." 

"  Unsympathizing !  "  repeated  the  Moor,  —  "yet  thou  be- 
lievest  in  their  effect  upon  the  earth?" 

"You  wrong  me,"  answered  Almamen,  with  a  slight 
smile;  "you  confound  your  servant  with  that  vain  race,  the 
astrologers." 

"  I  deemed  astrology  a  part  of  the  science  of  the  two  angels, 
Harut  and  Marut."  ^ 

"Possibly;  but  I  know  not  that  science,  though  I  have 
wandered  at  midnight  by  the  ancient  Babel." 

1  The  science  of  magic.  It  was  tanght  by  the  angels  named  in  the  text  ; 
for  which  offence  they  are  still  supposed  to  be  confined  to  the  ancient  Babel. 
There  they  may  yet  be  consulted,  though  they  are  rarely  seen  ( YallaV  odin 
Yahya).  —  Sale  :  Koran. 


4  LEILA. 

"Fame  lies  to  us,  then,"  answered  the  Moor,  with  some 
surprise. 

"Fame  never  made  pretence  to  truth,"  said  Almamen, 
calmly,  and  proceeding  on  his  way.  "Allah  be  with  you, 
prince;  I  seek  the  king." 

"Stay!  I  have  just  quitted  his  presence,  and  left  him,  I 
trust,  with  thoughts  worthy  of  the  sovereign  of  Granada, 
which  I  would  not  have  disturbed  by  a  stranger,  a  man  whose 
arms  are  not  spear  nor  shield." 

"Noble  Muza,"  returned  Almamen,  "fear  not  that  my  voice 
will  weaken  the  inspirations  which  thine  hath  breathed  into 
the  breast  of  Boabdil.  Alas!  if  my  counsel  were  heeded, 
thou  wouldst  hear  the  warriors  of  Granada  talk  less  of  Muza, 
and  more  of  the  king.  But  Fate,  or  Allah,  hath  placed  upon 
the  throne  of  a  tottering  dynasty  one  who,  though  brave,  is 
weak,  though  wise,  a  dreamer;  and  you  suspect  the  adviser 
when  you  find  the  influence  of  nature  on  the  advised.  Is  this 
just?" 

Muza  gazed  long  and  sternly  on  the  face  of  Almamen; 
then,  putting  his  hand  gently  on  the  enchanter's  shoulder, 
he  said,  — 

"Stranger,  if  thou  playest  us  false,  think  that  this  arm 
hath  cloven  the  casque  of  many  a  foe,  and  will  not  spare  the 
turban  of  a  traitor! " 

"And  think  thou,  proud  prince,"  returned  Almamen, 
unquailing,  "that  I  answer  alone  to  Allah  for  my  motives, 
and  that  against  man  my  deeds  I  can  defend!  " 

With  these  words  the  enchanter  drew  his  long  robe  round 
him,  and  disappeared  amidst  the  foliage. 


LEILA. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   KING   WITHIN   HIS    PALACE. 

In  one  of  those  apartments,  the  luxury  of  which  is  known 
only  to  the  inhabitants  of  a  genial  climate  (half  chamber  and 
half  grotto),  reclined  a  young  Moor,  in  a  thoughtful  and  mus- 
ing attitude. 

The  ceiling  of  cedar-wood,  glowing  with  gold  and  azure, 
was  supported  by  slender  shafts  of  the  whitest  alabaster, 
between  which  were  open  arcades  light  and  graceful  as  the 
arched  vineyards  of  Italy,  and  wrought  in  that  delicate 
filigree-work  common  to  the  Arabian  architecture;  through 
these  arcades  was  seen  at  intervals  the  lapsing  fall  of  waters, 
lighted  by  alabaster  lamps,  and  their  tinkling  music  sounded 
with  a  fresh  and  regular  murmur  upon  the  ear.  The  whole 
of  one  side  of  this  apartment  was  open  to  a  broad  and  exten- 
sive balcony,  which  overhung  the  banks  of  the  winding  and 
moonlit  Darro ;  and  in  the  clearness  of  the  soft  night  might 
be  distinctly  seen  the  undulating  hills,  the  woods  and  orange- 
groves,  which  still  form  the  unrivalled  landscapes  of  Granada. 

The  pavement  was  spread  with  ottomans  and  couches  of  the 
richest  azure,  prodigally  enriched  with  quaint  designs  in 
broideries  of  gold  and  silver;  and  over  that  on  which  the 
Moor  reclined,  facing  the  open  balcony,  were  suspended  on  a 
pillar  the  round  shield,  the  light  javelin,  and  the  curving 
cimeter  of  Moorish  warfare.  So  studded  were  these  arms 
with  jewels  of  rare  cost  that  they  might  alone  have  sufficed 
to  indicate  the  rank  of  the  evident  owner,  even  if  his  own 
gorgeous  vestments  had  not  betrayed  it.  An  open  manu- 
script on  a  silver  table  lay  unread  before  the  Moor  as,  lean- 
ing his  face  upon  his  hand,  he  looked  with  abstracted  eyes 
along  the  mountain  summits  dimly  distinguished  from  the 
cloudless  and  far  horizon. 


6  LEILA. 

No  one  could  have  gazed  without  a  vague  emotion  of 
interest,  mixed  with  melancholy,  upon  the  countenance  of 
the  inmate  of  that  luxurious  chamber. 

Its  beauty  was  singularly  stamped  with  a  grave  and  stately 
sadness,  which  was  made  still  more  impressive  by  its  air  of 
youth  and  the  unwonted  fairness  of  the  complexion.  Unlike 
the  attributes  of  the  Moorish  race,  the  hair  and  curling  beard 
were  of  a  deep  golden  colour;  and  on  the  broad  forehead  and 
in  the  large  eyes  was  that  settled  and  contemplative  mildness 
which  rarely  softens  the  swart  lineaments  of  the  fiery  children 
of  the  sun.  Such  was  the  personal  appearance  of  Boabdil  el 
Chico,  the  last  of  the  Moorish  dynasty  in  Spain. 

"These  scrolls  of  Arabian  learning,"  said  Boabdil  to  him- 
self, "what  do  they  teach?  To  despise  wealth  and  power,  to 
hold  the  heart  to  be  the  true  empire.  This,  then,  is  wisdom. 
Yet  if  I  follow  these  maxims  am  I  wise?  Alas!  the  whole 
world  would  call  me  a  driveller  and  a  madman.  Thus  is  it 
ever;  the  wisdom  of  the  Intellect  fills  us  with  precepts  which 
it  is  the  wisdom  of  Action  to  despise.  O  Holy  Prophet,  what 
fools  men  would  be,  if  their  knavery  did  not  eclipse  their 
folly!" 

The  young  king  listlessly  threw  himself  back  on  his  cushions 
as  he  uttered  these  words,  too  philosophical  for  a  king  whose 
crown  sat  so  loosely  on  his  brow. 

After  a  few  moments  of  thought  that  appeared  to  dissatisfy 
and  disquiet  him,  Boabdil  again  turned  impatiently  round. 
"My  soul  wants  the  bath  of  music,"  said  he;  "these  journeys 
into  a  pathless  realm  have  wearied  it,  and  the  streams  of 
sound  supple  and  relax  the  travailed  pilgrim." 

He  clapped  his  hands,  and  from  one  of  the  arcades  a  boy, 
hitherto  invisible,  started  into  sight;  at  a  slight  and  scarce 
perceptible  sign  from  the  king  the  boy  again  vanished,  and 
in  a  few  moments  afterwards,  glancing  through  the  fairy 
pillars  and  by  the  glittering  waterfalls,  came  the  small  and 
twinkling  feet  of  the  maids  of  Araby.  As  with  their  trans- 
parent tunics  and  white  arms  they  gleamed,  without  an  echo, 
through  that  cool  and  voluptuous  chamber,  they  might  well 
have  seemed  the  Peris  of  the  Eastern  magic,  summoned  to 


LEILA.  7 

beguile  the  sated  leisure  of  a  youthful  Solomon.  With  them 
came  a  maiden  of  more  exquisite  beauty,  though  smaller 
stature,  than  the  rest,  bearing  the  light  Moorish  lute;  and 
a  faint  and  languid  smile  broke  over  the  beautiful  face  of 
Boabdil  as  his  eyes  rested  upon  her  graceful  form  and  the 
dark  yet  glowing  lustre  of  her  Oriental  countenance.  She 
alone  approached  the  king,  timidly  kissed  his  hand,  and  then, 
joining  her  comrades,  commenced  the  following  song,  to  the 
air  and  very  words  of  which  the  feet  of  the  dancing-girls  kept 
time,  while  with  the  chorus  rang  the  silver  bells  of  the  musi- 
cal instrument  which  each  of  the  dancers  carried. 

AMINE'S  SONG. 


Softly,  oh,  softly  glide, 
Gentle  Music,  thou  silver  tide, 
Bearing,  the  lulled  air  along, 
This  leaf  from  the  Rose  of  Song ! 
To  its  port  in  his  soul  let  it  float, 
The  frail  but  the  fragrant  boat,  — 
Bear  it,  soft  Air,  along ! 


With  the  burthen  of  sound  we  are  laden. 
Like  the  bells  on  the  trees  of  Aden,^ 
When  they  thrill  with  a  tinkling  tone 
At  the  Wind  from  the  Holy  Throne. 
Hark,  as  we  move  around, 
We  shake  off  the  buds  of  sound  : 
Thy  presence,  Beloved,  is  Aden. 


Sweet  chime  that  I  hear  and  wake, 
I  would,  for  my  loved  one's  sake. 
That  I  were  a  sound  like  thee. 
To  the  depths  of  his  heart  to  flee. 

If  my  breath  had  his  senses  blest, 

If  my  voice  in  his  heart  could  rest, 
What  pleasure  to  die  like  thee ! 

1  The  Mohammedans  believe  that  musical  bells  hang  on  the  trees  of  Para- 
dise, and  are  put  in  motion  by  a  wind  from  the  throne  of  God. 


8  LEILA. 

The  music  ceased ;  the  dancers  remained  motionless  in  their 
graceful  postures,  as  if  arrested  into  statues  of  alabaster ;  and 
the  young  songstress  cast  herself  on  a  cushion  at  the  feet  of 
the  monarch,  and  looked  up  fondly,  but  silently,  into  his  yet 
melancholy  eyes,  when  a  man,  whose  entrance  had  not  been 
noticed,  was  seen  to  stand  within  the  chamber. 

He  was  about  the  middle  stature,  lean,  muscular,  and 
strongly  though  sparely  built.  A  plain  black  robe,  some- 
thing in  the  fashion  of  the  Armenian  gown,  hung  long  and 
loosely  over  a  tunic  of  bright  scarlet,  girded  by  a  broad  belt, 
from  the  centre  of  which  was  suspended  a  small  golden  key, 
while  at  the  left  side  appeared  the  jewelled  hilt  of  a  crooked 
dagger.  His  features  were  cast  in  a  larger  and  grander  mould 
than  was  common  among  the  Moors  of  Spain :  the  forehead 
was  broad,  massive,  and  singularly  high,  and  the  dark  eyes 
were  of  unusual  size  and  brilliancy;  his  beard,  short,  black, 
and  glossy,  curled  upward,  and  concealed  all  the  lower  part 
of  the  face,  save  a  firm,  compressed,  and  resolute  expression 
in  the  lips,  which  were  large  and  full;  the  nose  was  high, 
aquiline,  and  well-shaped;  and  the  whole  character  of  the 
head  (which  was,  for  symmetry,  on  too  large  and  gigantic  a 
scale  as  proportioned  to  the  form)  was  indicative  of  extraor- 
dinary energy  and  power.  At  the  first  glance,  the  stranger 
might  have  seemed  scarce  on  the  borders  of  middle  age ;  but 
on  a  more  careful  examination,  the  deep  lines  and  wrinkles, 
marked  on  the  forehead  and  round  the  eyes,  betrayed  a  more 
advanced  period  of  life.  With  arms  folded  on  his  breast,  he 
stood  by  the  side  of  the  king,  waiting  in  silence  the  moment 
when  his  presence  should  be  perceived. 

He  did  not  wait  long;  the  eyes  and  gesture  of  the  girl 
nestled  at  the  feet  of  Boabdil  drew  the  king^s  attention  to 
the  spot  where  the  stranger  stood.  His  eye  brightened  when 
it  fell  upon  him. 

"Almamen,"  cried  Boabdil,  eagerly,  "you  are  welcome." 
As  he  spoke,  he  motioned  to  the  dancing-girls  to  withdraw. 

"May  I  not  rest?  O  core  of  my  heart,  thy  bird  is  in  its 
home,"  murmured  the  songstress  at  the  king's  feet. 

"Sweet  Amine,"   answered  Boabdil,   tenderly  smoothing 


LEILA.  9 

down  her  ringlets  as  he  bent  to  kiss  her  brow,  "you  should 
witness  only  my  hours  of  delight.  Toil  and  business  have 
nought  with  thee;  I  will  join  thee  ere  yet  the  nightingale 
hymns  his  last  music  to  the  moon."  Amine  sighed,  rose,  and 
vanished  with  her  companions. 

"My  friend,"  said  the  king,  when  alone  with  Almamen, 
"  your  counsels  often  soothe  me  into  quiet,  yet  in  such  hours 
quiet  is  a  crime.  But  what  do?  How  struggle,  — how  act? 
Alas !  at  the  hour  of  his  birth,  rightly  did  they  affix  to  the 
name  of  Boabdil  the  epithet  of  El  Zogoyhi.^  Misfortune  set 
upon  my  brow  her  dark  and  fated  stamp  ere  yet  my  lips  could 
shape  a  prayer  against  her  power.  My  fierce  father,  whose 
frown  was  as  the  frown  of  Azrael,  hated  me  in  my  cradle;  in 
my  youth  my  name  was  invoked  by  rebels  against  my  will; 
imprisoned  by  my  father,  with  the  poison-bowl  or  the  dagger 
hourly  before  my  eyes,  I  was  saved  only  by  the  artifice  of  my 
mother.  When  age  and  infirmity  broke  the  iron  sceptre  of 
the  king,  my  claims  to  the  throne  were  set  aside,  and  my 
uncle.  El  Zagal,  usurped  my  birthright.  Amidst  open  war 
and  secret  treason  I  wrestled  for  my  crown;  and  now,  the 
sole  sovereign  of  Granada,  when,  as  I  fondly  imagined,  my 
uncle  had  lost  all  claim  on  the  affections  of  my  people  by 
succumbing  to  the  Christian  king  and  accepting  a  fief  under 
his  dominion,  I  find  that  the  very  crime  of  El  Zagal  is  fixed 
upon  me  by  my  unhappy  subjects,  —  that  they  deem  he  would 
not  have  yielded  but  for  my  supineness.  At  the  moment  of 
my  delivery  from  my  rival,  I  am  received  with  execration  by 
my  subjects,  and,  driven  into  this  my  fortress  of  the  Alham- 
bra,  dare  not  venture  to  head  my  armies  or  to  face  my  people ; 
yet  am  I  called  weak  and  irresolute,  when  strength  and  cour- 
age are  forbid  me.  And  as  the  water  glides  from  yonder  rock, 
that  hath  no  power  to  retain  it,  I  see  the  tide  of  empire  well- 
ing from  my  hands." 

The  young  king  spoke  warmly  and   bitterly,  and  in  the 
irritation  of  his  thoughts  strode,  while  he  spoke,  with  rapid 
and  irregular  strides  along  the  chamber.     Almamen  marked 
his  emotion  with  an  eye  and  a  lip  of  rigid  composure, 
1  The  unlucky. 


10  LEILA. 

"Light  of  the  faithful,"  said  he,  when  Boabdil  had  con- 
cluded, "  the  powers  above  never  doom  man  to  perpetual  sor- 
row nor  perpetual  joy.  The  cloud  and  the  sunshine  are  alike 
essential  to  the  heaven  of  our  destinies ;  and  if  thou  hast  suf- 
fered in  thy  youth,  thou  hast  exhausted  the  calamities  of  fate, 
and  thy  manhood  will  be  glorious,  and  thine  age  serene." 

"Thou  speakest  as  if  the  armies  of  Ferdinand  were  not 
already  around  my  walls,"  said  Boabdil,  impatiently. 

"The  armies  of  Sennacherib  were  as  mighty,"  answered 
Almamen. 

"Wise  seer,"  returned  the  king,  in  a  tone  half  sarcastic  and 
half  solemn,  "  we,  the  Mussulmans  of  Spain,  are  not  the  blind 
fanatics  of  the  Eastern  world.  On  us  have  fallen  the  lights  of 
philosophy  and  science;  and  if  the  more  clear-sighted  among 
us  yet  outwardly  reverence  the  forms  and  fables  worshipped 
by  the  multitude,  it  is  from  the  wisdom  of  policy,  not  the 
folly  of  belief.  Talk  not  to  me,  then,  of  thine  examples 
of  the  ancient  and  elder  creeds ;  the  agents  of  God  for  this 
world  are  now,  at  least,  in  men,  not  angels;  and  if  I  wait 
till  Ferdinand  share  the  destiny  of  Sennacherib,  I  wait 
only  till  the  Standard  of  the  Cross  wave  above  the  Vermilion 
Towers." 

"Yet,"  said  Almamen,  "while  my  lord  the  king  rejects  the 
fanaticism  of  belief,  doth  he  reject  the  fanaticism  of  persecu- 
tion? You  disbelieve  the  stories  of  the  Hebrews,  yet  you 
suffer  the  Hebrews  themselves,  that  ancient  and  kindred 
Arabian  race,  to  be  ground  to  the  dust,  condemned  and  tor- 
tured by  your  judges,  your  informers,  your  soldiers,  and  your 
subjects." 

"The  base  misers,  they  deserve  their  fate,"  answered 
Boabdil,  loftily.  "Gold  is  their  god,  and  the  market-place 
their  country.  Amidst  the  tears  and  groans  of  nations,  they 
sympathize  only  with  the  rise  and  fall  of  trade;  and,  the 
thieves  of  the  universe,  while  their  hand  is  against  every 
man's  coffer,  why  wonder  that  they  provoke  the  hand  of 
every  man  against  their  throats?  Worse  than  the  tribe  of 
Hanifa,  who  eat  their  god  only  in  time  of  famine,^  the  race 

1  The  tribe  of  Hanifa  worshipped  a  lump  of  dough. 


LEILA.  11 

of  Moisa'  would  sell  the  Seven  Heavens  for  the  dent^  on 

the  back  of  the  date-stone." 

"Your  laws  leave  them  no  ambition  but  that  of  avarice," 
replied  Almamen;  "and  as  the  plant  will  crook  and  distort 
its  trunk,  to  raise  its  head  through  every  obstacle  to  the  sun, 
so  the  mind  of  man  twists  and  perverts  itself,  if  legitimate 
openings  are  denied  it,  to  find  its  natural  element  in  the  gale 
of  power  or  the  sunshine  of  esteem.  These  Hebrews  were 
not  traffickers  and  misers  in  their  own  sacred  land  when  they 
routed  your  ancestors,  the  Arab  armies  of  old,  and  gnawed  the 
flesh  from  their  bones  in  famine  rather  than  yield  a  weaker 
city  than  Granada  to  a  mightier  force  than  the  holiday  lords 
of  Spain.  Let  this  pass.  My  lord  rejects  the  belief  in  the 
agencies  of  the  angels  j  doth  he  still  retain  belief  in  the  wis- 
dom of  mortal  men?  " 

"Yes,"  returned  Boabdil,  quickly;  "for  of  the  one  I  know 
nought;  of  the  other,  mine  own  senses  can  be  the  judge. 
Almamen,  my  fiery  kinsman,  Muza,  hath  this  evening  been 
with  me.  He  hath  urged  me  to  reject  the  fears  of  my  peo- 
ple, which  chain  my  panting  spirit  within  these  walls;  he 
hath  urged  me  to  gird  on  yonder  shield  and  cimeter,  and 
to  appear  in  the  Vivarrambla,  at  the  head  of  the  nobles  of 
Granada.  My  heart  leaps  high  at  the  thought;  and  if  I  can- 
not live,  at  least  I  will  die  —  a  king !  " 

"It  is  nobly  spoken,"  said  Almamen,  coldly. 

"You  approve,  then,  my  design?" 

"The  friends  of  the  king  cannot  approve  the  ambition  of 
the  king  to  die." 

"Ha!"  said  Boabdil,  in  an  altered  voice,  "thou  thinkest, 
then,  that  I  am  doomed  to  perish  in  this  struggle?" 

"As  the  hour  shall  be  chosen,  wilt  thou  fall  or  triumph." 

"And  that  hour?" 

"Is  not  yet  come." 

"Dost  thou  read  the  hour  in  the  stars?" 

"Let  Moorish  seers  cultivate  that  frantic  credulity;  thy 
servant  sees  but  in  the  stars  worlds  mightier  than  this  little 

1  Moisa,  Moses. 

2  A.  proverb  used  in  the  Koran,  signifying  the  smallest  possible  trifle. 


IS^  LEILA. 

eartli,  whose  light  would  neither  wane  nor  wink  if  earth  itself 
were  swept  from  the  infinities  of  space." 

"Mysterious  man,"  said  Boabdil,  "whence,  then,  is  thy 
power?    Whence  thy  knowledge  of  the  future?" 

Almamen  approached  the  king,  as  he  now  stood  by  the  open 
balcony. 

"Behold,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the  waters  of  the  Darro, 
"yonder  stream  is  of  an  element  in  which  man  cannot  live 
nor  breathe.  Above,  in  the  thin  and  impalpable  air,  our  steps 
cannot  find  a  footing,  the  armies  of  all  earth  cannot  build  an 
empire.  And  yet,  by  the  exercise  of  a  little  art,  the  fishes 
and  the  birds,  the  inhabitants  of  the  air  and  the  water,  min- 
ister to  our  most  humble  wants,  the  most  common  of  our 
enjoyments.  So  it  is  with  the  true  science  of  enchantment. 
Thinkest  thou  that,  while  the  petty  surface  of  the  world  is 
crowded  with  living  things,  there  is  no  life  in  the  vast  centre 
within  the  earth,  and  the  immense  ether  that  surrounds  it? 
As  the  fisherman  snares  his  prey,  as  the  fowler  entraps  the 
bird,  so,  by  the  art  and  genius  of  our  human  mind,  we  may 
thrall  and  command  the  subtler  beings  of  realms  and  elements 
which  our  material  bodies  cannot  enter,  our  gross  senses  can- 
not survey.  This,  then,  is  my  lore.  Of  other  worlds  know 
I  nought ;  but  of  the  things  of  this  world,  whether  men,  or,  as 
your  legends  term  them,  ghouls  and  genii,  I  have  learned 
something.  To  the  future,  I  myself  am  blind;  but  I  can 
invoke  and  conjure  up  those  whose  eyes  are  more  piercing, 
whose  natures  are  more  gifted." 

"Prove  to  me  thy  power,"  said  Boabdil,  awed  less  by  tlie 
words  than  by  the  thrilling  voice  and  the  impressive  aspect 
of  the  enchanter. 

"Is  not  the  king's  will  my  law?"  answered  Almamen. 
"Be  his  will  obeyed.     To-morrow  night  I  await  thee." 

"Where?" 

Almamen  paused  a  moment,  and  then  whispered  a  sentence 
in  the  king's  ear.     Boabdil  started,  and  turned  pale. 

"A  fearful  spot!" 

"  So  is  the  Alhambra  itself,  great  Boabdil,  while  Ferdinand 
is  without  the  walls,  and  Muza  within  the  city." 


LEILA.  13 

"Muza!     Barest  thou  mistrust  my  bravest  warrior?" 

"  What  wise  king  will  trust  the  idol  of  the  king's  army? 
Did  Boabdil  fall  to-morrow,  by  a  chance  javelin,  in  the  field, 
whom  would  the  nobles  and  the  warriors  place  upon  his 
throne?  Doth  it  require  an  enchanter's  lore  to  whisper  to 
thy  heart  the  answer  in  the  name  of  *  Muza '  ?  " 

"  0  wretched  state !  0  miserable  king ! "  exclaimed  Boabdil, 
in  a  tone  of  great  anguish.  "  I  never  had  a  father,  —  I  have 
now  no  people ;  a  little  while,  and  I  shall  have  no  country. 
Am  I  never  to  have  a  friend?  " 

"A  friend, — what  king  ever  had?"  returned  Almamen, 
dryly. 

"  Away,  man,  away ! "  cried  Boabdil,  as  the  impatient 
spirit  of  his  rank  and  race  shot  dangerous  fire  from  his 
eyes;  "your  cold  and  bloodless  wisdom  freezes  up  all  the 
veins  of  my  manhood!  Glory,  confidence,  human  sympathy, 
and  feeling,  — your  counsels  annihilate  them  all.  Leave  me; 
I  would  be  alone." 

"We  meet  to-morrow  at  midnight,  mighty  Boabdil,"  said 
Almamen,  with  his  usual  unmoved  and  passionless  tones. 
"May  the  king  live  forever!" 

The  king  turned,  but  his  monitor  had  already  disappeared. 
He  went  as  he  came,  —  noiseless  and  sudden  as  a  ghost. 


.     CHAPTER  III. 

THE   LOVERS. 

When  Muza  parted  from  Almamen,  he  bent  his  steps 
towards  the  hill  that  rises  opposite  the  ascent  crowned  with 
the  towers  of  the  Alhambra,  the  sides  and  summit  of  which 
eminence  were  tenanted  by  the  luxurious  population  of  the 
city.  He  selected  the  more  private  and  secluded  paths ;  and, 
half  way  up  the  hill,  arrived  at  last  before  a  low  wall  of  con- 
siderable extent,  which  girded  the  gardens  of  some  wealthier 
inhabitant  of  the  city.     He  looked  long  and  anxiously  round. 


14  LEILA. 

All  was  solitary,  nor  was  the  stillness  broken  save  as  an  occa- 
sional breeze  from  the  snowy  heights  of  the  Sierra  Nevada 
rustled  the  fragrant  leaves  of  the  citron  and  pomegranate,  or 
as  the  silver  tinkling  of  waterfalls  chimed  melodiously  within 
the  gardens.  The  Moor's  heart  beat  high.  A  moment  more, 
and  he  had  scaled  the  wall,  and  found  himself  upon  a  green- 
sward, variegated  by  the  rich  colours  of  many  a  sleeping 
flower,  and  shaded  by  groves  and  alleys  of  luxuriant  foliage 
and  golden  fruits. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  stood  beside  a  house  that  seemed 
of  a  construction  anterior  to  the  Moorish  dynasty.  It  was 
built  over  low  cloisters  formed  by  heavy  and  time-worn  pil- 
lars, concealed  for  the  most  part  by  a  profusion  of  roses  and 
creeping  shrubs ;  the  lattices  above  the  cloisters  opened  upon 
large  gilded  balconies,  —  the  superaddition  of  Moriscan  taste. 
In  one  only  of  the  casements  a  lamp  was  visible ;  the  rest  of 
the  mansion  was  dark,  as  if,  save  in  that  chamber,  sleep  kept 
watch  over  the  inmates.  It  was  to  this  window  that  the  Moor 
stole ;  and  after  a  moment's  pause  he  murmured  rather  than 
sang,  so  low  and  whispered  was  his  voice,  the  following  sim- 
ple verses,  slightly  varied  from  an  old  Arabian  poet :  — 

SERENADE. 

Light  of  my  soul,  arise,  arise. 
Thy  sister  lights  are  in  the  skies ! 

We  want  thine  eyes, 

Thy  joyous  eyes ; 
The  Night  is  mourning  for  thine  eyes ! 

The  sacred  verse  is  on  my  sword, 

But  on  my  heart  thy  name  ; 
The  words  on  each  alike  adored. 

The  truth  of  each  the  same. 
The  same,  —  alas !  too  well  I  feel 
The  heart  is  truer  than  the  steel. 

Light  of  my  soul,  upon  me  shine ! 
Night  wakes  her  stars  to  envy  mine. 

Those  eyes  of  thine, 

Wild  eyes  of  thine, 
What  stars  are  like  those  eyes  of  thine "? 


LEILA.  15 

As  lie  concluded,  the  lattice  softly  opened,  and  a  female 
form  appeared  on  the  balcony. 

"Ah,  Leila!"  said  the  Moor,  "I  see  thee,  and  I  am 
blessed! " 

"Hush!"  answered  Leila,  "speak  low,  nor  tarry  long;  I 
fear  that  our  interviews  are  suspected.  And  this,"  she 
added,  in  a  trembling  voice,  "may  perhaps  be  the  last  time 
we  shall  meet." 

"  Holy  Prophet !  "  exclaimed  Muza,  passionately,  "  what  do 
I  hear?  Why  this  mystery?  Why  cannot  I  learn  thine 
origin,  thy  rank,  thy  parents?  Think  you,  beautiful  Leila, 
that  Granada  holds  a  house  lofty  enough  to  disdain  the  alli- 
ance with  Muza  Ben  Abil  Gazan?  And  oh,"  he  added,  sink- 
ing the  haughty  tones  of  his  voice  into  accents  of  the  softest 
tenderness,  "if  not  too  high  to  scorn  me,  what  should  war 
against  our  loves  and  our  bridals?  For  worn  equally  on  my 
heart  were  the  flower  of  thy  sweet  self,  whether  the  mountain 
top  or  the  valley  gave  birth  to  the  odour  and  the  bloom." 

"Alas!"  answered  Leila,  weeping,  "the  mystery  thou 
complainest  of  is  as  dark  to  myself  as  thee.  How  often 
have  I  told  thee  that  I  know  nothing  of  my  birth  or  childish 
fortunes,  save  a  dim  memory  of  a  more  distant  and  burning 
clime,  where,  amidst  sands  and  wastes,  springs  the  everlast- 
ing cedar,  and  the  camel  grazes  on  stunted  herbage  withering 
in  the  fiery  air?  Then  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  a  mother: 
fond  eyes  looked  on  me,  and  soft  songs  hushed  me  into  sleep." 

"Thy  mother's  soul  has  passed  into  mine,"  said  the  Moor, 
tenderly. 

Leila  continued:  "Borne  hither,  I  passed  from  childhood 
into  youth  within  these  walls.  Slaves  minister  to  my  slight- 
est wish;  and  those  who  have  seen  both  state  and  poverty, 
which  I  have  not,  tell  me  that  treasures  and  splendour  that 
might  glad  a  monarch  are  prodigalized  around  me.  But  of 
ties  and  kindred  know  I  little ;  my  father,  a  stern  and  silent 
man,  visits  me  but  rarely,  —  sometimes  months  pass,  and  I 
see  him  not ;  but  I  feel  he  loves  me.  And  till  I  knew  thee, 
Muza,  my  brightest  hours  were  in  listening  to  the  footsteps 
and  flying  to  the  arms  of  that  solitary  friend." 


16  LEILA. 

"Know  you  not  Ms  name?" 

"  JSTor  I,  nor  any  one  of  the  household,  save  perhaps  Ximen, 
the  chief  of  the  slaves,  —  an  old  and  withered  man,  whose  very 
eye  chills  me  into  fear  and  silence." 

"Strange,"  said  the  Moor,  musingly.  "Yet  why  think  you 
our  love  is  discovered,  or  can  be  thwarted?" 

"  Hush !  Ximen  sought  me  this  day.  ^  Maiden, '  said  he, 
•  men's  footsteps  have  been  tracked  within  the  gardens :  if 
your  sire  know  this,  you  will  have  looked  your  last  on 
Granada.  Learn, '  he  added,  in  a  softer  voice,  as  he  saw  me 
tremble,  *  that  permission  were  easier  given  to  thee  to  wed 
the  wild  tiger  than  to  mate  with  the  loftiest  noble  of  Morisca. 
Beware! '  He  spoke,  and  left  me.  Oh,  Muza,"  she  continued, 
passionately  wringing  her  hands,  "  my  heart  sinks  within  me, 
and  omen  and  doom  rise  dark  before  my  sight !  " 

"By  my  father's  head,  these  obstacles  but  fire  my  love;  and 
I  would  scale  to  thy  possession,  though  every  step  in  the  lad- 
der were  the  corpses  of  a  hundred  foes !  " 

Scarcely  had  the  fiery  and  high-souled  Moor  uttered  his 
boast,  than,  from  some  unseen  hand  amidst  the  groves,  a 
javelia  whirred  past  him,  and  as  the  air  it  raised  came  sharp 
upon  his  cheek,  half  buried  its  quivering  shaft  in  the  trunk 
of  a  tree  behind  him. 

"Fly,  fly,  and  save  thyself!  0  God,  protect  him!"  cried 
Leila;  and  she  vanished  within  the  chamber. 

The  Moor  did  not  wait  the  result  of  a  deadlier  aim;  he 
turned, — yet,  in  the  instinct  of  his  fierce  nature,  not  from, 
but  against,  the  foe ;  his  drawn  cimeter  in  his  hand,  the  half- 
suppressed  cry  of  wrath  trembling  on  his  lips,  he  sprang 
forward  in  the  direction  whence  the  javelin  had  sped.  With 
eyes  accustomed  to  the  ambuscades  of  Moorish  warfare,  he 
searched  eagerly,  yet  warily,  through  the  dark  and  sighing 
foliage.  No  sign  of  life  met  his  gaze;  and  at  length,  grimly 
and  reluctantly  he  retraced  his  steps  and  quitted  the  de- 
mesnes: but  just  as  he  had  cleared  the  wall  a  voice  —  low, 
but  sharp  and  shrill  —  came  from  the  gardens. 

"Thou  art  spared,"  it  said,  "but  haply  for  a  more  miserable 
doom  1 " 


LEILA.  17 


CHAPTEE   IV. 

THE    FATHER   AND    DAUGHTER. 

The  chamber  into  which  Leila  retreated  bore  out  the 
character  she  had  given  of  the  interior  of  her  home.  The 
fashion  of  its  ornament  and  decoration  was  foreign  to  that 
adopted  by  the  Moors  of  Granada;  it  had  a  more  massive  and, 
if  we  may  use  the  term,  Egyptian  gorgeousness.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  the  stuffs  of  the  East,  stiff  with  gold,  em- 
broidered upon  ground  of  the  deepest  purple ;  strange  charac- 
ters, apparently  in  some  foreign  tongue,  were  wrought  in  the 
tessellated  cornices  and  on  the  heavy  ceiling,  which  was  sup- 
ported by  square  pillars,  round  which  were  twisted  serpents 
of  gold  and  enamel,  with  eyes  to  which  enormous  emeralds 
gave  a  green  and  lifelike  glare;  various  scrolls  and  musical 
instruments  lay  scattered  upon  marble  tables,  and  a  solitary 
lamp  of  burnished  silver  cast  a  dim  and  subdued  light  around 
the  chamber.  The  effect  of  the  whole,  though  splendid,  was 
gloomy,  strange,  and  oppressive,  and  rather  suited  to  the  thick 
and  cave-like  architecture  which  of  old  protected  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Thebes  and  Memphis  from  the  rays  of  the  African 
sun,  than  to  the  transparent  heaven  and  light  pavilions  of  the 
graceful  Orientals  of  Granada. 

Leila  stood  within  this  chamber,  pale  and  breathless,  with 
her  lips  apart,  her  hands  clasped,  her  very  soul  in  her  ears; 
nor  was  it  possible  to  conceive  a  more  perfect  ideal  of  some 
delicate  and  brilliant  Peri,  captured  in  the  palace  of  a  hostile 
and  gloomy  Genius.  Her  form  was  of  the  lightest  shape  con- 
sistent with  the  roundness  of  womanly  beauty,  and  there  was 
something  in  it  of  that  elastic  and  fawnlike  grace  which  a 
sculptor  seeks  to  embody  in  his  dreams  of  a  being  more  aerial 
than  those  of  earth.  Her  luxuriant  hair  was  dark  indeed,  but 
a  purple  and  glossy  hue  redeemed  it  from  that  heaviness  of 
shade  too  common  in  the  tresses  of  the  Asiatics;   and  her 

2 


18  LEILA. 

complexion,  naturally  pale,  but  clear  and  lustrous,  would 
have  been  deemed  fair  even  in  the  North.  Her  features, 
slightly  aquiline,  were  formed  in  the  rarest  mould  of  sym- 
metry, and  her  full  rich  lips  disclosed  teeth  that  might  have 
shamed  the  pearl.  But  the  chief  charm  of  that  exquisite 
countenance  was  in  an  expression  of  softness  and  purity  and 
intellectual  sentiment  that  seldom  accompanies  that  cast  of 
loveliness,  and  was  wholly  foreign  to  the  voluptuous  and 
dreamy  languor  of  Moorish  maidens.  Leila  had  been  edu- 
cated, and  the  statue  had  received  a  soul. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  intense  suspense,  she  again  stole  to 
the  lattice,  gently  unclosed  it,  and  looked  forth.  Far,  through 
an  opening  amidst  the  trees,  she  descried  for  a  single  moment 
the  erect  and  stately  figure  of  her  lover  darkening  the  moon- 
shine on  the  sward,  as  now,  quitting  his  fruitless  search,  he 
turned  his  lingering  gaze  towards  the  lattice  of  his  beloved. 
The  thick  and  interlacing  foliage  quickly  hid  him  from  her 
eyes;  but  Leila  had  seen  enough;  she  turned  within,  and 
said,  as  grateful  tears  trickled  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  sank 
on  her  knees  upon  the  piled  cushions  of  the  chamber,  '^  God 
of  my  fathers,  I  bless  thee,  —  he  is  safe !  " 

"And  yet,"  she  added,  as  a  painful  thought  crossed  her, 
"how  may  I  pray  for  him?  We  kneel  not  to  the  same  divin- 
ity, and  I  have  been  taught  to  loathe  and  shudder  at  his  creed. 
Alas!  how  will  this  end?  Fatal  was  the  hour  when  he  first 
beheld  me  in  yonder  gardens;  more  fatal  still  the  hour  in 
which  he  crossed  the  barrier,  and  told  Leila  that  she  was 
beloved  by  the  hero  whose  arm  was  the  shelter,  whose  name 
is  the  blessing,  of  Granada.     Ah  me,  ah  me!  " 

The  young  maiden  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and 
sank  into  a  passionate  r every,  broken  only  by  her  sobs. 
Some  time  had  passed  in  this  undisturbed  indulgence  of  her 
grief,  when  the  arras  was  gently  put  aside,  and  a  man  of 
remarkable  garb  and  mien  advanced  into  the  chamber,  paus- 
ing as  he  beheld  her  dejected  attitude,  and  gazing  on  her  with 
a  look  in  which  pity  and  tenderness  seemed  to  struggle  against 
habitual  severity  and  sternness. 

"Leila,"  said  the  intruder. 


LEILA.  19 

Leila  started,  and  a  deep  blush  suffused  her  countenance; 
she  dashed  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and  came  forward  with  a 
vain  attempt  to  smile. 

"  My  father,  welcome ! " 

The  stranger  seated  himself  on  the  cushions,  and  motioned 
Leila  to  his  side. 

"These  tears  are  fresh  upon  thy  cheek,"  said  he,  gravely; 
"they  are  the  witness  of  thy  race.  Our  daughters  are  born 
to  weep,  and  our  sons  to  groan ;  ashes  are  on  the  head  of  the 
mighty,  and  the  Fountains  of  the  Beautiful  run  with  gall! 
Oh  that  we  could  but  struggle,  that  we  could  but  dare,  that 
we  could  raise  up  our  heads,  and  unite  against  the  bondage  of 
the  evil-doer!  It  may  not  be;  but  one  man  shall  avenge  a 
nation ! " 

The  dark  face  of  Leila's  father,  well  fitted  to  express 
powerful  emotion,  became  terrible  in  its  wrath  and  passion; 
his  brow  and  lip  worked  convulsively.  But  the  paroxysm 
was  brief;  and  scarce  could  she  shudder  at  its  intensity  ere 
it  had  subsided  into  calm. 

"Enough  of  these  thoughts,  which  thou,  a  woman  and  a 
child,  art  not  formed  to  witness.  Leila,  thou  hast  been  nur- 
tured with  tenderness,  and  schooled  with  care.  Harsh  and 
unloving  may  I  have  seemed  to  thee,  but  I  would  have  shed 
the  best  drops  of  my  heart  to  save  thy  young  years  from  a 
single  pang.  Nay,  listen  to  me  silently.  That  thou  mightest 
one  day  be  worthy  of  thy  race,  and  that  thine  hours  might  not 
pass  in  indolent  and  weary  lassitude,  thou  hast  been  taught 
the  lessons  of  a  knowledge  rarely  given  to  thy  sex.  Not  thine 
the  lascivious  arts  of  the  Moorish  maidens;  not  thine  their 
harlot  songs,  and  their  dances  of  lewd  delight;  thy  delicate 
limbs  were  but  taught  the  attitude  that  Nature  dedicates  to 
the  worship  of  a  God,  and  the  music  of  thy  voice  was  tuned 
to  the  songs  of  thy  fallen  country,  sad  with  the  memory  of 
her  wrongs,  animated  with  the  names  of  her  heroes,  holy  with 
the  solemnity  of  her  prayers.  These  scrolls  and  the  lessons 
of  our  seers  have  imparted  to  thee  such  of  our  science  and 
our  history  as  may  fit  thy  mind  to  aspire,  and  thy  heart  to 
feel  for  a  sacred  cause.     Thou  listenest  to  me,  Leila?  " 


20  LEILA. 

Perplexed  and  wondering,  for  never  before  had  her  father 
addressed  her  in  such  a  strain,  the  maiden  answered  with  an 
earnestness  of  manner  that  seemed  to  content  the  questioner; 
and  he  resumed,  with  an  altered,  hollow,  solemn  voice,  — 

"Then  curse  the  persecutors.  Daughter  of  the  great 
Hebrew  race,  arise  and  curse  the  Moorish  taskmaster  and 
spoiler ! " 

As  he  spoke,  the  adjuror  himself  rose,  lifting  his  right 
hand  on  high,  while  his  left  touched  the  shoulder  of  the 
maiden.  But  she,  after  gazing  a  moment  in  wild  and  terri- 
fied amazement  upon  his  face,  fell  cowering  at  his  knees,  and 
clasping  them  imploringly,  exclaimed  in  scarce  articulate 
murmurs,  — 

"  Oh,  spare  me,  spare  me ! " 

The  Hebrew  —  for  such  he  was  —  surveyed  her,  as  she  thus 
quailed  at  his  feet,  with  a  look  of  rage  and  scorn ;  his  hand 
wandered  to  his  poniard,  he  half  unsheathed  it,  thrust  it  back 
with  a  muttered  curse,  and  then,  deliberately  drawing  it  forth, 
cast  it  on  the  ground  beside  her. 

"Degenerate  girl,"  he  said,  in  accents  that  vainly  struggled 
for  calm,  "  if  thou  hast  admitted  to  thy  heart  one  unworthy 
thought  towards  a  Moorish  infidel,  dig  deep  and  root  it  out, 
even  with  the  knife,  and  to  the  death,  —  so  wilt  thou  save  this 
hand  from  that  degrading  task." 

He  drew  himself  hastily  from  her  grasp,  and  left  the  unfor- 
tunate girl  alone  and  senseless. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AMBITION   DISTORTED    INTO   VICE   BY   LAW. 

On  descending  a  broad  flight  of  stairs  from  the  apartment, 
the  Hebrew  encountered  an  old  man  habited  in  loose  garments 
of  silk  and  fur,  upon  whose  withered  and  wrinkled  face  life 


LEILA.  21 

seemed  scarcely  to  struggle  against  the  advance  of  death,  so 
haggard,  wan,  and  corpse-like  was  its  aspect. 

"  Ximen, "  said  the  Israelite,  "  trusty  and  beloved  servant, 
follow  me  to  the  cavern." 

He  did  not  tarry  for  an  answer,  but  continued  his  way  with 
rapid  strides  through  various  courts  and  alleys,  till  he  came 
at  length  into  a  narrow,  dark,  and  damp  gallery,  that  seemed 
cut  from  the  living  rock.  At  its  entrance  was  a  strong  grate, 
which  gave  way  to  the  Hebrew's  touch  upon  the  spring, 
though  the  united  strength  of  a  hundred  men  could  not  have 
moved  it  from  its  hinge.  Taking  up  a  brazen  lamp  that 
burned  in  a  niche  within  it,  the  Hebrew  paused  impatiently 
till  the  feeble  steps  of  the  old  man  reached  the  spot,  and  then, 
reclosing  the  grate,  pursued  his  winding  way  for  a  consider- 
able distance,  till  he  stopped  suddenly  by  a  part  of  the  rock 
which  seemed  in  no  respect  different  from  the  rest;  and  so 
artfully  contrived  and  concealed  was  the  door  which  he  now 
opened,  and  so  suddenly  did  it  yield  to  his  hand,  that  it 
appeared  literally  the  effect  of  enchantment  when  the  rock 
yawned,  and  discovered  a  circular  cavern  lighted  with  brazen 
lamps,  and  spread  with  hangings  and  cushions  of  thick  furs. 
Upon  rude  and  seemingly  natural  pillars  of  rock,  various 
antique  and  rusty  arms  were  suspended;  in  large  niches  were 
deposited  scrolls,  clasped  and  bound  with  iron ;  and  a  profu- 
sion of  strange  and  uncouth  instruments  and  machines  (in 
which  modern  science  might  perhaps  discover  the  tools  of 
chemical  invention)  gave  a  magical  and  ominous  aspect  to  the 
wild  abode. 

The  Hebrew  cast  himself  on  a  couch  of  furs ;  and  as  the 
old  man  entered  and  closed  the  door,  "  Ximen, "  said  he,  "  fill 
out  wine,  — it  is  a  soothing  counsellor,  and  I  need  it." 

Extracting  from  one  of  the  recesses  of  the  cavern  a  flask 
and  goblet,  Ximen  offered  to  his  lord  a  copious  draught  of  the 
sparkling  vintage  of  the  Vega,  which  seemed  to  invigorate 
and  restore  him. 

"Old  man,"  said  he,  concluding  the  potation  with  a  deep- 
drawn  sigh,  "  fill  to  thyself,  —  drink  till  thy  veins  feel 
young." 


22  LEILA. 

Ximen  obeyed  tlie  mandate  but  imperfectly;  the  wine  just 
touched  his  lips,  and  the  goblet  was  put  aside. 

"Ximen,"  resumed  the  Israelite,  "how  many  of  our  race 
have  been  butchered  by  the  avarice  of  the  Moorish  kings 
since  first  thou  didst  set  foot  within  the  city?" 

"Three  thousand.  The  number  was  completed  last  winter, 
by  the  order  of  Jusef  the  vizier;  and  their  goods  and  coffers 
are  transformed  into  shafts  and  cimeters  against  the  dogs  of 
Galilee." 

"Three  thousand, — no  more?  Three  thousand  only?  I 
would  the  number  had  been  tripled,  for  the  interest  is  becom- 
ing due." 

"  My  brother  and  my  son  and  my  grandson  are  among  the 
number,"  said  the  old  man,  and  his  face  grew  yet  more 
deathlike. 

"  Their  monuments  shall  be  in  hecatombs  of  their  tyrants. 
They  shall  not,  at  least,  call  the  Jews  niggards  in  revenge." 

"But  pardon  me,  noble  chief  of  a  fallen  people,  thinkest 
thou  we  shall  be  less  despoiled  and  trodden  under  foot  by  yon 
haughty  and  stiff-necked  Nazarenes  than  by  the  Arabian 
misbelievers?" 

"Accursed,  in  truth,  are  both,"  returned  the  Hebrew;  "but 
the  one  promise  more  fairly  than  the  other.  I  have  seen  this 
Ferdinand  and  his  proud  queen;  they  are  pledged  to  accord 
us  rights  and  immunities  we  have  never  known  before  in 
Europe." 

"And  they  will  not  touch  our  traffic,  our  gains,  our  gold?" 

"  Out  on  thee ! "  cried  the  fiery  Israelite,  stamping  on  the 
ground.  "  I  would  all  the  gold  of  earth  were  sunk  into  the 
everlasting  pit!  It  is  this  mean  and  miserable  and  loathsome 
leprosy  of  avarice  that  gnaws  away  from  our  whole  race  the 
heart,  the  soul,  nay,  the  very  form,  of  man!  Many  a  time, 
when  I  have  seen  the  lordly  features  of  the  descendants  of 
Solomon  and  Joshua  (features  that  stamp  the  nobility  of  the 
Eastern  world,  born  to  mastery  and  command)  sharpened  and 
furrowed  by  petty  cares ;  when  I  have  looked  upon  the  frame 
of  the  strong  man  bowed,  like  a  crawling  reptile,  to  some 
huckstering  bargainer  of  silks  and  unguents,  and  heard  the 


LEILA.  23 

voice,  tliat  should  be  raising  the  battle-cry,  smoothed  into 
fawning  accents  of  base  fear  or  yet  baser  hope,  —  I  have  asked 
myself  if  I  am  indeed  of  the  blood  of  Israel,  and  thanked  the 
great  Jehovah  that  he  hath  spared  me  at  least  the  curse  that 
hath  blasted  my  brotherhood  into  usurers  and  slaves ! " 

Ximen  prudently  forbore  an  answer  to  enthusiasm  which 
he  neither  shared  nor  understood ;  but,  after  a  brief  silence, 
turned  back  the  stream  of  the  conversation. 

"You  resolve,  then,  upon  prosecuting  vengeance  on  the 
Moors,  at  whatsoever  hazard  of  the  broken  faith  of  these 
Nazarenes?" 

"  Ay,  the  vapour  of  human  blood  hath  risen  unto  heaven, 
and,  collected  into  thunder-clouds,  hangs  over  the  doomed  and 
guilty  city.  And  now,  Ximen,  I  have  a  new  cause  for  hatred 
to  the  Moors :  the  flower  that  I  have  reared  and  watched,  the 
spoiler  hath  sought  to  pluck  it  from  my  hearth.  Leila,  thou 
hast  guarded  her  ill,  Ximen ;  and  wert  thou  not  endeared  to 
me  by  thy  very  malice  and  vices,  the  rising  sun  should  have 
seen  thy  trunk  on  the  waters  of  the  Darro." 

"My  lord,"  replied  Ximen,  "if  thou,  the  wisest  of  our  peo- 
ple, canst  not  guard  a  maiden  from  love,  how  canst  thou  see 
crime  in  the  dull  eyes  and  numbed  senses  of  a  miserable  old 
man?" 

The  Israelite  did  not  answer,  nor  seem  to  hear  this  depre- 
catory remonstrance.  He  appeared  rather  occupied  with  his 
own  thoughts;  and,  speaking  to  himself,  he  muttered:  "It 
must  be  so.  The  sacrifice  is  hard,  the  danger  great,  but 
here,  at  least,  it  is  more  immediate.  It  shall  be  done. 
Ximen,"  he  continued,  speaking  aloud,  "dost  thou  feel 
assured  that  even  mine  own  countrymen,  mine  own  tribe, 
know  me  not  as  one  of  them?  Were  my  despised  birth  and 
religion  published,  my  limbs  would  be  torn  asunder  as  an 
impostor,  and  all  the  arts  of  the  Cabala  could  not  save  me." 

"Doubt  not,  great  master;  none  in  Granada,  save  thy 
faithful  Ximen,  know  thy  secret." 

"  So  let  me  dream  and  hope.  And  now  to  my  work ;  for 
this  night  must  be  spent  in  toil." 

The  Hebrew  drew  before  him  some  of  the  strange  instru- 


24  LEILA. 

ments  we  have  described,  and  took  from  the  recesses  in  the 
rock  several  scrolls.  The  old  man  lay  at  his  feet,  ready  to 
obey  his  behests,  but  to  all  appearance  rigid  and  motionless 
as  the  dead,  whom  his  blanched  hues  and  shrivelled  form 
resembled.  It  was,  indeed,  as  the  picture  of  the  enchanter 
at  his  work,  and  the  corpse  of  some  man  of  old,  revived  from 
the  grave  to  minister  to  his  spells  and  execute  his  commands. 

Enough  in  the  preceding  conversation  has  transpired  to 
convince  the  reader  that  the  Hebrew,  in  whom  he  has  already 
detected  the  Almamen  of  the  Alhambra,  was  of  no  character 
common  to  his  tribe.  Of  a  lineage  that  shrouded  itself  in  the 
darkness  of  his  mysterious  people  in  their  day  of  power,  and 
possessed  of  immense  wealth  which  threw  into  poverty  the 
resources  of  Gothic  princes,  the  youth  of  that  remarkable  man 
had  been  spent,  not  in  traffic  and  merchandise,  but  travel  and 
study. 

As  a  child,  his  home  had  been  in  Granada.  He  had  seen 
his  father  butchered  by  the  late  king,  Muley  Abul  Hassan, 
without  other  crime  than  his  reputed  riches,  and  his  body 
literally  cut  open,  to  search  for  the  jewels  it  was  supposed  he 
had  swallowed.  He  saw  and,  boy  as  he  was,  he  vowed  re- 
venge. A  distant  kinsman  bore  the  orphan  to  lands  more 
secure  from  persecution;  and  the  art  with  which  the  Jews 
concealed  their  wealth,  scattering  it  over  various  cities,  had 
secured  to  Almamen  the  treasures  the  tyrant  of  Granada  had 
failed  to  grasp. 

He  had  visited  the  greater  part  of  the  world  then  known, 
and  resided  for  many  years  at  the  court  of  the  sultan  of  that 
hoary  Egypt  which  still  retained  its  fame  for  abstruse  science 
and  magic  lore.  He  had  not  in  vain  applied  himself  to  such 
tempting  and  wild  researches,  and  had  acquired  many  of 
those  secrets  now  perhaps  lost  forever  to  the  world.  We  do 
not  mean  to  intimate  that  he  attained  to  what  legend  and 
superstition  impose  upon  our  faith  as  the  art  of  sorcery.  He 
could  neither  command  the  elements  nor  pierce  the  veil  of  the 
future,  —  scatter  armies  with  a  word,  nor  pass  from  spot  to 
spot  by  the  utterance  of  a  charmed  formula.  But  men  who 
for  ages  had  passed  their  lives  in  attempting  all  the  effects 


LEILA.  25 

that  can  astonish  and  awe  the  vulgar,  could  not  but  learn 
some  secrets  which  all  the  more  sober  wisdom  of  modern  times 
would  search  ineffectually  to  solve  or  to  revive.  And  many 
of  such  arts,  acquired  mechanically  (their  invention  often  the 
work  of  a  chemical  accident),  those  who  attained  to  them 
could  not  always  explain,  nor  account  for  the  phenomena 
they  created,  so  that  the  mightiness  of  their  own  deceptions 
deceived  themselves ;  and  they  often  believed  they  were  the 
masters  of  the  Nature  to  which  they  were,  in  reality,  but 
erratic  and  wild  disciples.  Of  such  was  the  student  in  that 
grim  cavern.  He  was  in  some  measure  the  dupe,  partly  of 
his  own  bewildered  wisdom,  partly  of  the  fervour  of  an  imag- 
ination exceedingly  high-wrought  and  enthusiastic.  His  own 
gorgeous  vanity  intoxicated  him;  and  if  it  be  an  historical 
truth  that  the  kings  of  the  ancient  world,  blinded  by  their 
own  power,  had  moments  in  which  they  believed  themselves 
more  than  men,  it  is  not  incredible  that  sages,  elevated  even 
above  kings,  should  conceive  a  frenzy  as  weak,  or,  it  may  be, 
as  sublime,  and  imagine  that  they  did  not  claim  in  vain  the 
awful  dignity  with  which  the  faith  of  the  multitude  invested 
their  faculties  and  gifts. 

But  though  the  accident  of  birth,  which  excluded  him  from 
all  field  for  energy  and  ambition,  had  thus  directed  the  power- 
ful mind  of  Almamen  to  contemplation  and  study.  Nature  had 
never  intended  passions  so  fierce  for  the  calm,  though  vision- 
ary, pursuits  to  which  he  was  addicted.  Amidst  scrolls  and 
seers  he  had  pined  for  action  and  glory;  and  baffled  in  all 
wholesome  egress  by  the  universal  exclusion  which,  in  every 
land  and  from  every  faith,  met  the  religion  he  belonged  to, 
the  faculties  within  him  ran  riot,  producing  gigantic,  but 
baseless  schemes,  which,  as  one  after  the  other  crumbled 
away,  left  behind  feelings  of  dark  misanthropy  and  intense 
revenge. 

Perhaps,  had  his  religion  been  prosperous  and  powerful,  he 
might  have  been  a  sceptic:  persecution  and  affliction  made 
him  a  fanatic.  Yet,  true  to  that  prominent  characteristic  of 
the  old  Hebrew  race  which  made  them  look  to  a  Messiah  only 
as  a  warrior  and  a  prince,  and  which  taught  them  to  associate 


26  LEILA. 

all  their  hopes  and  schemes  with  worldly  victories  and  power, 
Almamen  desired  rather  to  advance,  than  to  obey,  his  reli- 
gion. He  cared  little  for  its  precepts,  he  thought  little  of  its 
doctrines;  but,  night  and  day,  he  revolved  his  schemes  for 
its  earthly  restoration  and  triumph. 

At  that  time  the  Moors  in  Spain  were  far  more  deadly 
persecutors  of  the  Jews  than  the  Christians  were.  Amidst 
the  Spanish  cities  on  the  coast  that  merchant  tribe  had  formed 
commercial  connections  with  the  Christians  sufficiently  bene- 
ficial, both  to  individuals  and  to  communities,  to  obtain  for 
them,  not  only  toleration,  but  something  of  personal  friend- 
ship, wherever  men  bought  and  sold  in  the  market-place. 
And  the  gloomy  fanaticism  which  afterwards  stained  the 
fame  of  the  great  Ferdinand,  and  introduced  the  horrors  of 
the  Inquisition,  had  not  yet  made  itself  more  than  fitfully 
visible.  But  the  Moors  had  treated  this  unhappy  people  with 
a  wholesale  and  relentless  barbarity.  At  Granada,  under  the 
reign  of  the  fierce  father  of  Boabdil,  —  "  that  king  with  the 
tiger  heart,"  —  the  Jews  had  been  literally  placed  without 
the  pale  of  humanity;  and  even  under  the  mild  and  contem- 
plative Boabdil  himself  they  had  been  plundered  without 
mercy,  and  if  suspected  of  secreting  their  treasures,  massa- 
cred without  scruple :  the  wants  of  the  State  continued  their 
unrelenting  accusers,  —  their  wealth,  their  inexpiable  crime. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  these  barbarities  that  Almamen,  for 
the  first  time  since  the  day  when  the  death-shriek  of  his 
agonized  father  rang  in  his  ears,  suddenly  returned  to  Gra- 
nada. He  saw  the  unmitigated  miseries  of  his  brethren,  and 
he  remembered  and  repeated  his  vow.  His  name  changed, 
his  kindred  dead,  none  remembered,  in  the  mature  Almamen, 
the  beardless  child  of  Issachar  the  Jew.  He  had  long,  in- 
deed, deemed  it  advisable  to  disguise  his  faith,  and  was  known 
throughout  the  African  kingdoms  but  as  the  potent  santon,  or 
the  wise  magician. 

This  fame  soon  lifted  him,  in  Granada,  high  in  the  councils 
of  the  court.  Admitted  to  the  intimacy  of  Muley  Hassan, 
with  Boabdil  and  the  queen-mother  he  had  conspired  against 
that  monarch,  and  had  lived  at  least  to  avenge  his  father  upon 


LEILA.  27 

the  royal  murderer.  He  was  no  less  intimate  with.  Boabdil; 
but  steeled  against  fellowship  or  affection  for  all  men  out  of 
the  pale  of  his  faith,  he  saw  in  the  confidence  of  the  king  only 
the  blindness  of  a  victim. 

Serpent  as  he  was,  he  cared  not  through  what  mire  of 
treachery  and  fraud  he  trailed  his  baleful  folds,  so  that  at 
last  he  could  spring  upon  his  prey.  Nature  had  given  him 
sagacity  and  strength.  The  curse  of  circumstance  had  hum- 
bled, but  reconciled  him  to  the  dust.  He  had  the  crawl  of 
the  reptile,  —  he  had  also  its  poison  and  its  fangs. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   LION    IN   THE   NET. 

It  was  the  next  night,  not  long  before  daybreak,  that  the 
king  of  Granada  abruptly  summoned  to  his  council  Jusef,  his 
vizier.  The  old  man  found  Boabdil  in  great  disorder  and 
excitement;  but  he  almost  deemed  his  sovereign  mad  when 
he  received  from  him  the  order  to  seize  upon  the  person  of 
Muza  Ben  Abil  Gazan  and  to  lodge  him  in  the  strongest  dun- 
geon of  the  Vermilion  Tower.  Presuming  upon  BoabdiPs 
natural  mildness,  the  vizier  ventured  to  remonstrate,  to  sug- 
gest the  danger  of  laying  violent  hands  upon  a  chief  so 
beloved,  and  to  inquire  what  cause  should  be  assigned  for 
the  outrage. 

The  veins  swelled  like  cords  upon  Boabdil 's  brow  as 
he  listened  to  the  vizier,  and  his  answer  was  short  and 
peremptory :  — 

"  Am  I  yet  a  king,  that  I  should  fear  a  subject  or  excuse 
my  will?  Thou  hast  my  orders;  there  are  my  signet  and  the 
firman :  obedience,  or  the  bow-string !  " 

Never  before  had  Boabdil  so  resembled  his  dread  father  in 
speech  and  air ;  the  vizier  trembled  to  the  soles  of  his  feet, 


28  LEILA. 

and  withdrew  in  silence.  Boabdil  watched  him  depart;  and 
then,  clasping  his  hands  in  great  emotion,  exclaimed,  "  0  lips 
of  the  dead,  ye  have  warned  me,  and  to  you  I  sacrifice  the 
friend  of  my  youth!" 

On  quitting  Boabdil,  the  vizier,  taking  with  him  some  of 
those  foreign  slaves  of  a  seraglio  who  know  no  sympathy  with 
human  passion  outside  its  walls,  bent  his  way  to  the  palace 
of  Muza,  sorely  puzzled  and  perplexed.  He  did  not,  however, 
like  to  venture  upon  the  hazard  of  the  alarm  it  might  occasion 
throughout  the  neighbourhood  if  he  endeavoured,  at  so  unsea- 
sonable an  hour,  to  force  an  entrance.  He  resolved,  rather, 
with  his  train,  to  wait  at  a  little  distance  till,  with  the  grow- 
ing dawn,  the  gates  should  be  unclosed  and  the  inmates  of  the 
palace  astir. 

Accordingly,  cursing  his  stars  and  wondering  at  his  mis- 
sion, Jusef  and  his  silent  and  ominous  attendants  concealed 
themselves  in  a  small  copse  adjoining  the  palace  until  the 
daylight  fairly  broke  over  the  awakened  city.  He  then  passed 
into  the  palace,  and  was  conducted  to  a  hall  where  he  found 
the  renowned  Moslem  already  astir,  and  conferring  with  some 
Zegri  captains  upon  the  tactics  of  a  sortie  designed  for  that 
day. 

It  was  with  so  evident  a  reluctance  and  apprehension  that 
Jusef  approached  the  prince  that  the  fierce  and  quick-sighted 
Zegris  instantly  suspected  some  evil  intention  in  his  visit; 
and  when  Muza,  in  surprise,  yielded  to  the  prayer  of  the 
vizier  for  a  private  audience,  it  was  with  scowling  brows  and 
sparkling  eyes  that  the  Moorish  warriors  left  the  darling  of 
the  nobles  alone  with  the  messenger  of  their  king. 

"By  the  tomb  of  the  prophet,"  said  one  of  the  Zegris  as  he 
quitted  the  hall,  "the  timid  Boabdil  suspects  our  Ben  Abil 
Gazan.     I  learned  of  this  before." 

"  Hush !  "  said  another  of  the  band ;  "  let  us  watch.  If  the 
king  touch  a  hair  of  Muza's  head,  Allah  have  mercy  on  his 
sins ! " 

Meanwhile,  the  vizier,  in  silence,  showed  to  Muza  the 
firman  and  the  signet;  and  then,  without  venturing  to  an- 
nounce the  place  to  which  he  was  commissioned  to  conduct 


LEILA.  29 

the  prince,  besought  him  to  follow  at  once.  Muza  changed 
colour,  but  not  with  fear. 

"Alas!"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  deep  sorrow,  "can  it  be  that 
I  have  fallen  under  my  royal  kinsman's  suspicion  or  displeas- 
ure? But  no  matter;  proud  to  set  to  Granada  an  example  of 
valour  in  her  defence,  be  it  mine  to  set  also  an  example  of 
obedience  to  her  king.  Go  on,  I  will  follow  thee.  Yet  stay, — 
you  will  have  no  need  of  guards ;  let  us  depart  by  a  private 
egress :  the  Zegris  might  misgive,  did  they  see  me  leave  the 
palace  with  you  at  the  very  time  the  army  are  assembling  in 
the  Vivarrambla,  and  awaiting  my  presence.    This  way." 

Thus  saying,  Muza,  who,  fierce  as  he  was,  obeyed  every 
impulse  that  the  Oriental  loyalty  dictated  from  a  subject  to  a 
king,  passed  from  the  hall  to  a  small  door  that  admitted  into 
the  garden,  and  in  thoughtful  silence  accompanied  the  vizier 
towards  the  Alhambra.  As  they  passed  the  copse  in  which 
Muza,  two  nights  before,  had  met  with  Almamen,  the  Moor, 
lifting  his  head  suddenly,  beheld  fixed  upon  him  the  dark  eyes 
of  the  magician  as  he  emerged  from  the  trees.  Muza  thought 
there  was  in  those  eyes  a  malign  and  hostile  exultation ;  but 
Almamen,  gravely  saluting  him,  passed  on  through  the  grove. 
The  prince  did  not  deign  to  look  back,  or  he  might  once  more 
have  encountered  that  withering  gaze. 

"Proud  heathen,"  muttered  Almamen  to  himself,  "thy 
father  filled  his  treasuries  from  the  gold  of  many  a  tortured 
Hebrew;  and  even  thou,  too  haughty  to  be  the  miser,  hast 
been  savage  enough  to  play  the  bigot.  Thy  name  is  a  curse 
in  Israel;  yet  dost  thou  lust  after  the  daughter  of  our  de- 
spised race,  and  could  defeated  passion  sting  thee,  I  were 
avenged.  Ay,  sweep  on,  with  thy  stately  step  and  lofty  crest, 
—  thou  goest  to  chains,  perhaps  to  death." 

As  Almamen  thus  vented  his  bitter  spirit,  the  last  gleam  of 
the  white  robes  of  Muza  vanished  from  his  gaze.  He  paused 
a  moment,  turned  away  abruptly,  and  said,  half  aloud,  "  Ven- 
geance, not  on  one  man  only,  but  on  a  whole  race !  Now  for 
the  Nazarene." 


BOOK  n. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   ROYAL  TENT  OF  SPAIN. — THE  KING  AND  THE  DOMINI- 
CAN.—  THE  VISITOR  AND   THE   HOSTAGE. 

Our  narrative  now  summons  us  to  the  Christian  army,  and 
to  the  tent  in  which  the  Spanish  king  held  nocturnal  counsel 
with  some  of  his  more  confidential  warriors  and  advisers. 
Ferdinand  had  taken  the  field  with  all  the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance of  a  tournament  rather  than  of  a  campaign,  and  his 
pavilion  literall}^  blazed  with  purple  and  cloth  of  gold. 

The  king  sat  at  the  head  of  a  table  on  which  were  scattered 
maps  and  papers ;  nor  in  countenance  and  mien  did  that  great 
and  politic  monarch  seem  unworthy  of  the  brilliant  chivalry 
by  which  he  was  surrounded.  His  black  hair,  richly  perfumed 
and  anointed,  fell  in  long  locks  on  either  side  of  a  high, 
imperial  brow,  upon  whose  calm  though  not  unfurrowed  sur- 
face the  physiognomist  would  in  vain  have  sought  to  read  the 
inscrutable  heart  of  kings.  His  features  were  regular  and 
majestic,  and  his  mantle,  clasped  with  a  single  jewel  of  rare 
price  and  lustre,  and  wrought  at  the  breast  with  a  silver  cross, 
waved  over  a  vigorous  and  manly  frame,  which  derived  from 
the  composed  and  tranquil  dignity  of  habitual  command  that 
imposing  effect  which  many  of  the  renowned  knights  and 
heroes  in  his  presence  took  from  loftier  stature  and  ampler 
proportions.  At  his  right  hand  sat  Prince  Juan,  his  son,  in 
the  first  bloom  of  youth ;  at  his  left,  the  celebrated  Rodrigo 
Ponce  de  Leon,  Marquis  of  Cadiz;  along  the  table,  in  the 
order  of  their  military  rank,  were  seen  the  splendid  Duke  of 
Medina  Sidonia,  equally  noble  in  aspect  and  in  name,  the 
worn  and  thoughtful  countenance  of  the  Marquis  de  Villena 


LEILA.  31 

(the  Bayard  of  Spain),  the  melancholy  brow  of  the  heroic 
Alonzo  de  Aguilar,  and  the  gigantic  frame,  the  animated  feat- 
ures, and  sparkling  eyes  of  that  fiery  Hernando  del  Pulgar 
surnamed  "the  knight  of  the  exploits." 

"You  see,  seiiores,"  said  the  king,  continuing  an  address  to 
which  his  chiefs  seemed  to  listen  with  reverential  attention, 
"  our  best  hope  of  speedily  gaining  the  city  is  rather  in  the 
dissensions  of  the  Moors  than  our  own  sacred  arms.  The 
walls  are  strong,  the  population  still  numerous,  and  under 
Muza  Ben  Abil  Gazan  the  tactics  of  the  hostile  army  are,  it 
must  be  owned,  administered  with  such  skill  as  to  threaten 
very  formidable  delays  to  the  period  of  our  conquest.  Avoid- 
ing the  hazard  of  a  fixed  battle,  the  infidel  cavalry  harass  our 
camp  by  perpetual  skirmishes;  and  in  the  mountain  defiles 
our  detachments  cannot  cope  with  their  light  horse  and  treach- 
erous ambuscades.  It  is  true  that  by  dint  of  time,  by  the 
complete  devastation  of  the  Vega,  and  by  vigilant  prevention 
of  convoys  from  the  sea-towns,  we  might  starve  the  city  into 
yielding.  But  alas !  my  lords,  our  enemies  are  scattered  and 
numerous,  and  Granada  is  not  the  only  place  before  which 
the  standard  of  Spain  should  be  unfurled.  Thus  situated,  the 
lion  does  not  disdain  to  serve  himself  of  the  fox;  and,  fortu- 
nately, we  have  now  in  Granada  an  ally  that  fights  for  us.  I 
have  actual  knowledge  of  all  that  passes  within  the  Alham- 
bra.  The  king  yet  remains  in  his  palace,  irresolute  and 
dreaming;  and  I  trust  that  an  intrigue  by  which  his  jealousies 
are  aroused  against  his  general,  Muza,  may  end  either  in  the 
loss  of  that  able  leader,  or  in  the  commotion  of  open  rebellion 
or  civil  war.  Treason  within  Granada  will  open  its  gates 
to  us." 

"Sire,"  said  Ponce  de  Leon,  after  a  pause,  "under  your 
counsels  I  no  more  doubt  of  seeing  our  banner  float  above  the 
Vermilion  Towers  than  I  doubt  the  rising  of  the  sun  over 
yonder  hills;  it  matters  little  whether  we  win  by  stratagem 
or  force.  But  I  need  not  say  to  your  Highness  that  we  should 
carefully  beware  lest  we  be  amused  by  inventions  of  the  enemy, 
and  trust  to  conspiracies  which  may  be  but  lying  tales  to  blunt 
our  sabres  and  paralyze  our  action." 


32  LEILA. 

"Bravely  spoken,  wise  De  Leon! "  exclaimed  Hernando  del 
Pulgar,  hotly ;  "  and  against  these  infidels,  aided  by  the  cun- 
ning of  the  Evil  One,  methinks  our  best  wisdom  lies  in  the 
sword-arm.     Well  says  our  old  Castilian  proverb,  — 

"  *  Curse  them  devoutly, 
Hammer  them  stoutly.' " 

The  king  smiled  slightly  at  the  ardour  of  the  favourite  of 
his  army,  but  looked  round  for  more  deliberate  counsel. 

"Sire,"  said  Villena,  "far  be  it  from  us  to  inquire  the 
grounds  upon  which  your  Majesty  builds  your  hope  of  dis- 
sension among  the  foe ;  but,  placing  the  most  sanguine  confi- 
dence in  a  wisdom  never  to  be  deceived,  it  is  clear  that  we 
should  relax  no  energy  within  our  means,  but  fight  while  we 
plot,  and  seek  to  conquer,  while  we  do  not  neglect  to 
undermine." 

"You  speak  well,  my  lord,"  said  Ferdinand,  thoughtfully; 
"and  you  yourself  shall  head  a  strong  detachment  to-morrow 
to  lay  waste  the  Vega.  Seek  me  two  hours  hence ;  the  council 
for  the  present  is  dissolved." 

The  knights  rose,  and  withdrew  with  the  usual  grave  and 
stately  ceremonies  of  respect  which  Ferdinand  observed  to, 
and  exacted  from,  his  court.     The  young  prince  remained. 

"Son,"  said  Ferdinand,  when  they  were  alone,  "early  and 
betimes  should  the  Infants  of  Spain  be  lessoned  in  the  science 
of  kingcraft.  These  nobles  are  among  the  brightest  jewels  of 
the  crown ;  but  still,  it  is  in  the  crown  and  for  the  crown  that 
their  light  should  sparkle.  Thou  seest  how  hot  and  fierce 
and  warlike  are  the  chiefs  of  Spain,  —  excellent  virtues  when 
manifested  against  our  foes ;  but  had  we  no  foes,  Juan,  such 
virtues  might  cause  us  exceeding  trouble.  By  Saint  Jago, 
I  have  founded  a  mighty  monarchy!  Observe  how  it  should 
be  maintained,  —  by  science,  Juan,  by  science ;  and  science  is 
as  far  removed  from  brute  force  as  this  sword  from  a  crow- 
bar. Thou  seemest  bewildered  and  amazed,  my  son;  thou 
hast  heard  that  I  seek  to  conquer  Granada  by  dissensions 
among  the  Moors:  when  Granada  is  conquered,  remember 
that  the  nobles  themselves  are  at  Granada.     Ave  Maria! 


LEILA.  *  33 

blessed  be  the  Holy  Mother,  under  whose  eyes  are  the  hearts 
of  kings ! " 

Ferdinand  crossed  himself  devoutly ;  and  then,  rising,  drew 
aside  a  part  of  the  drapery  of  the  pavilion,  and  called  in  a  low 
voice  the  name  of  Perez.  A  grave  Spaniard,  somewhat  past 
the  verge  of  middle  age,  appeared. 

"Perez,"  said  the  king,  reseating  himself,  "has  the  person 
we  expected  from  Granada  yet  arrived?" 

"Sire,  yes,  accompanied  by  a  maiden." 

"He  hath  kept  his  word;  admit  them.  Ha!  holy  father, 
thy  visits  are  always  as  balsam  to  the  heart." 

"  Save  you,  my  son ! "  returned  a  man  in  the  robes  of  a 
Dominican  friar,  who  had  entered  suddenly  and  without  cere- 
mony by  another  part  of  the  tent,  and  who  now  seated  him- 
self with  smileless  composure  at  a  little  distance  from  the 
king. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  some  moments;  and  Perez 
still  lingered  within  the  tent,  as  if  in  doubt  whether  the 
entrance  of  the  friar  would  not  prevent  or  delay  obedience  to 
the  king's  command.  On  the  calm  face  of  Ferdinand  himself 
appeared  a  slight  shade  of  discomposure  and  irresolution, 
when  the  monk  thus  resumed,  — 

"My  presence,  my  son,  will  not,  I  trjist,  disturb  your 
conference  with  the  infidel,  since  you  deem  that  worldly 
policy  demands  your  parley  with  the  men  of  Belial." 

"Doubtless  not,  doubtless  not,"  returned  the  king,  quickly; 
then,  muttering  to  himself,  "  How  wondrously  doth  this  holy 
man  penetrate  into  all  our  movements  and  designs !  "  he  added 
aloud,  "Let  the  messenger  enter." 

Perez  bowed  and  withdrew. 

During  this  time  the  young  prince  reclined  in  listless 
silence  on  his  seat,  and  on  his  delicate  features  was  an 
expression  of  weariness  which  augured  but  ill  of  his  fitness 
for  the  stern  business  to  which  the  lessons  of  his  wise  father 
were  intended  to  educate  his  mind.  His,  indeed,  was  the  age 
and  his  the  soul  for  pleasure :  the  tumult  of  the  camp  was  to 
him  but  a  holiday  exhibition;  the  march  of  an  army,  the 
exhilaration  of  a  spectacle;    the  court  as  a  banquet;    the 

3 


34  LEILA. 

throne,  tlie  best  seat  at  the  entertainment.  The  life  of 
the  heir-apparent,  to  the  life  of  the  king  possessive,  is 
as  the  distinction  between  enchanting  hope  and  tiresome 
satiety. 

The  small  gray  eyes  of  the  friar  wandered  over  each  of  his 
royal  companions  with  a  keen  and  penetrating  glance,  and 
then  settled  in  the  aspect  of  humility  on  the  rich  carpets  that 
bespread  the  floor;  nor  did  he  again  lift  them  till  Perez,  reap- 
pearing, admitted  to  the  tent  the  Israelite,  Almamen,  accom- 
panied by  a  female  figure,  whose  long  veil,  extending  from 
head  to  foot,  could  conceal  neither  the  beautiful  proportions 
nor  the  trembling  agitation  of  her  frame. 

"When  last,  great  king,  I  was  admitted  to  thy  presence," 
said  Almamen,  "thou  didst  make  question  of  the  sincerity 
and  faith  of  thy  servant;  thou  didst  ask  me  for  a  surety  of 
my  faith;  thou  didst  demand  a  hostage,  and  didst  refuse 
further  parley  without  such  pledge  were  yielded  to  thee. 
Lo,  I  place  under  thy  kingly  care  this  maiden,  —  the  sole 
child  of  my  house,  — as  surety  of  my  truth;  I  intrust  to  thee 
a  life  dearer  than  my  own." 

"You  have  kept  faith  with  us,  stranger,"  said  the  king,  in 
that  soft  and  musical  voice  which  well  disguised  his  deep 
craft  and  his  unrelenting  will,  "and  the  maiden  whom  you 
intrust  to  our  charge  shall  be  ranked  with  the  ladies  of  our 
royal  consort." 

"Sire,"  replied  Almamen,  with  touching  earnestness,  "you 
now  hold  the  power  of  life  and  death  over  all  for  whom  this 
heart  can  breathe  a  prayer  or  cherish  a  hope,  save  for  my 
countrymen  and  my  religion.  This  solemn  pledge  between 
thee  and  me  I  render  up  without  scruple,  without  fear.  To 
thee  I  give  a  hostage,  — from  thee  I  have  but  a  promise." 

"But  it  is  the  promise  of  a  king,  a  Christian,  and  a  knight," 
said  the  king,  with  dignity  rather  mild  than  arrogant ;  "  among 
monarchs,  what  hostage  can  be  more  sacred?  Let  this  pass. 
How  proceed  affairs  in  the  rebel  city?" 

"May  this  maiden  withdraw  ere  I  answer  my  lord  the 
king?"   said  Almamen. 

The  young  prince  started  to  his  feet.     "Shall  I  conduct 


LEILA.  35 

this  new  charge  to  my  mother?"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice, 
addressing  Ferdinand. 

The  king  half  smiled.  "The  holy  father  were  a  better 
guide,"  he  returned,  in  the  same  tone.  But  though  the 
Dominican  heard  the  hint,  he  retained  his  motionless  pos- 
ture; and  Ferdinand,  after  a  momentary  gaze  on  the  friar, 
turned  away.  "Be  it  so,  Juan,"  said  he,  with  a  look  meant 
to  convey  caution  to  the  prince ;  "  Perez  shall  accompany  you 
to  the  queen.  Keturn  the  moment  your  mission  is  fulfilled, 
—  we  want  your  presence." 

While  this  conversation  was  carried  on  between  the  father 
and  son,  the  Hebrew  was  whispering,  in  his  sacred  tongue, 
words  of  comfort  and  remonstrance  to  the  maiden ;  but  they 
appeared  to  have  but  little  of  the  desired  effect,  and  suddenly 
falling  on  his  breast,  she  wound  her  arms  around  the  Hebrew, 
whose  breast  shook  with  strong  emotions,  and  exclaimed  pas- 
sionately, in  the  same  language :  "  Oh,  my  father,  what  have 
I  done?  Why  send  me  from  thee?  Why  intrust  thy  child  to 
the  stranger?     Spare  me,  spare  me! " 

"Child  of  my  heart,"  returned  the  Hebrew,  with  solemn 
but  tender  accents,  "even  as  Abraham  offered  up  his  son, 
must  I  offer  thee  upon  the  altars  of  our  faith;  but,  0  Leila! 
even  as  the  angel  of  the  Lord  forbade  the  offering,  so  shall 
thy  youth  be  spared,  and  thy  years  reserved  for  the  glory  of 
generations  yet  unborn.  King  of  Spain,"  he  continued,  in 
the  Spanish  tongue,  suddenly  and  eagerly,  "you  are  a  father; 
forgive  my  weakness,  and  speed  this  parting." 

Juan  approached,  and  with  respectful  courtesy  attempted 
to  take  the  hand  of  the  maiden. 

"You?"  said  the  Israelite,  with  a  dark  frown.  "0  king! 
the  prince  is  young." 

"Honour  knoweth  no  distinction  of  age,"  answered  the 
king.  "What  ho,  Perez!  accompany  this  maiden  and  the 
prince  to  the  queen's  pavilion." 

The  sight  of  the  sober  years  and  grave  countenance  of  the 
attendant  seemed  to  reassure  the  Hebrew.  He  strained  Leila 
in  his  arms,  printed  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead  without  remov- 
ing her  veil,  and  then,  placing  her  almost  in  the  arms  of 


36  LEILA. 

Perez,  turned  away  to  the  farther  end  of  the  tent,  and  con- 
cealed his  face  with  his  hands.  The  king  appeared  touched, 
but  the  Dominican  gazed  upon  the  whole  scene  with  a  sour 
scowl. 

Leila  still  paused  for  a  moment;  and  then,  as  if  recovering 
her  self-possession,  said  aloud  and  distinctly,  "Man  deserts 
me,  but  I  will  not  forget  that  God  is  over  all."  Shaking  off 
the  hand  of  the  Spaniard,  she  continued :  "  Lead  on ;  I  follow 
thee !  "  and  left  the  tent  with  a  steady  and  even  majestic  step. 

"And  now,"  said  the  king,  when  alone  with  the  Dominican 
and  Almamen,  "how  proceed  our  hopes?" 

"Boabdil,"  replied  the  Israelite,  "is  aroused  against  both 
his  army  and  their  leader,  Muza:  the  king  will  not  quit  the 
Alhambra ;  and  this  morning,  ere  I  left  the  city,  Muza  himself 
was  in  the  prisons  of  the  palace." 

"How  ?"  cried  the  king,  starting  from  his  seat. 

"This  is  my  work,"  pursued  the  Hebrew,  coldly.  "It  is 
these  hands  that  are  shaping  for  Ferdinand  of  Spain  the  keys 
of  Granada." 

"And  right  kingly  shall  be  your  guerdon,"  said  the  Spanish 
monarch.     "Meanwhile,  accept  this  earnest  of  our  favour." 

So  saying,  he  took  from  his  breast  a  chain  of  massive  gold, 
the  links  of  which  were  curiously  inwrought  with  gems,  and 
extended  it  to  the  Israelite.  Almamen  moved  not.  A  dark 
flush  upon  his  countenance  bespoke  the  feelings  he  with  diffi- 
culty restrained. 

"I  sell  not  my  foes  for  gold,  great  king,"  said  he,  with  a 
stern  smile;  "I  sell  my  foes  to  buy  the  ransom  of  my  friends." 

"Churlish,"  said  Ferdinand,  offended;  "but  speak  on,  man, 
speak  on ! " 

"If  I  place  Granada,  ere  two  weeks  are  past,  within  thy 
power,  what  shall  be  my  reward?  " 

"Thou  didst  talk  to  me,  when  last  we  met,  of  immunities 
to  the  Jews." 

The  calm  Dominican  looked  up  as  the  king  spoke,  crossed 
himself,  and  resumed  his  attitude  of  humility. 

"I  demand  for  the  people  of  Israel,"  returned  Almamen, 
"free  leave  to  trade  and  abide  within  the  city  and  follow 


LEILA.  37 

their  callings,  subjected  only  to  the  same  laws  and  the  same 
imposts  as  the  Christian  population." 

"  The  same  laws  and  the  same  imposts !  Humph !  there  are 
difficulties  in  the  concession.     If  we  refuse?" 

"  Our  treaty  is  ended.  Give  me  back  the  maiden,  —  you 
will  have  no  further  need  of  the  hostage  you  demanded.  I 
return  to  the  city,  and  renew  our  interviews  no  more." 

Politic  and  cold-blooded  as  was  the  temperament  of  the 
great  Ferdinand,  he  had  yet  the  imperious  and  haughty 
nature  of  a  prosperous  and  long-descended  king;  and  he  bit 
his  lip  in  deep  displeasure  at  the  tone  of  the  dictatorial  and 
stately  stranger. 

"Thou  usest  plain  language,  my  friend,"  said  he.  "My 
words  can  be  as  rudely  spoken:  thou  art  in  my  power,  and 
canst  return  not,  save  at  my  permission." 

"I  have  your  royal  word,  sire,  for  free  entrance  and  safe 
egress,"  answered  Almamen.  "Break  it,  and  Granada  is  with 
the  Moors  till  the  Darro  runs  red  with  the  blood  of  her  heroes, 
and  her  people  strew  the  vales  as  the  leaves  in  autumn." 

"Art  thou  then  thyself  of  the  Jewish  faith?"  asked  the 
king.  "If  thou  art  not,  wherefore  are  the  outcasts  of  the 
world  so  dear  to  thee?  " 

"My  fathers  were  of  that  creed,  royal  Ferdinand;  and  if  I 
myself  desert  their  creed,  I  do  not  desert  their  cause.  0 
king!  are  my  terms  scorned  or  accepted?" 

"I  accept  them,  provided,  first,  that  thou  obtainest  the 
exile  or  death  of  Muza;  secondly,  that  within  two  weeks  of 
this  date  thou  bringest  me,  along  with  the  chief  councillors 
of  Granada,  the  written  treaty  of  the  capitulation  and  the  keys 
of  the  city.  Do  this,  and  though  the  sole  king  in  Christen- 
dom who  dares  the  hazard,  I  offer  to  the  Israelites  throughout 
Andalusia  the  common  laws  and  rights  of  citizens  of  Spain, 
and  to  thee  I  will  accord  such  dignity  as  may  content  thy 
ambition." 

The  Hebrew  bowed  reverently,  and  drew  from  his  breast  a 
scroll,  which  he  placed  on  the  table  before  the  king. 

"This  writing,  mighty  Ferdinand,  contains  the  articles  of 
our  compact. " 


38  LEILA. 

"How,  knave!  wouldst  thou  have  us  commit  our  royal 
signature  to  conditions  with  such  as  thou  art,  to  the  chance 
of  the  public  eye?    The  king's  word  is  the  king's  bond." 

The  Hebrew  took  up  the  scroll  with  imperturbable  compos- 
ure. "My  child!"  said  he.  "Will  your  Majesty  summon 
back  my  child?    We  would  depart." 

"  A  sturdy  mendicant  this,  by  the  Virgin ! "  muttered  the 
king;  and  then,  speaking  aloud,  "Give  me  the  paper,  I  will 
scan  it." 

Eunning  his  eyes  hastily  over  the  words,  Ferdinand  paused 
a  moment,  and  then  drew  towards  him  the  implements  of 
writing,  signed  the  scroll,  and  returned  it  to  Almamen. 

The  Israelite  kissed  it  thrice  with  Oriental  veneration,  and 
replaced  it  in  his  breast. 

Ferdinand  looked  at  him  hard  and  curiously.  He  was  a 
profound  reader  of  men's  characters;  but  that  of  his  guest 
baffled  and  perplexed  him. 

"And  how,  stranger,"  said  he,  gravely,  — "how  can  I  trust 
that  man  who  thus  distrusts  one  king  and  sells  another?" 

"0  kicg!"  replied  Almamen  (accustomed  from  his  youth 
to  commune  with  and  command  the  possessors  of  thrones  yet 
more  absolute),  —  "0  king !  if  thou  believest  me  actuated  by 
personal  and  selfish  interests  in  this  our  compact,  thou  hast 
but  to  make  my  service  minister  to  my  interest,  and  the  lore 
of  human  nature  will  tell  thee  that  thou  has  won  a  ready  and 
submissive  slave.  But  if  thou  thinkest  I  have  avowed  senti- 
ments less  abject,  and  developed  qualities  higher  than  those 
of  the  mere  bargainer  for  sordid  power,  oughtest  thou  not  to 
rejoice  that  chance  has  thrown  into  thy  way  one  whose  intel- 
lect and  faculties  may  be  made  thy  tool?  If  I  betray  another, 
that  other  is  my  deadly  foe.  Dost  not  thou,  the  lord  of 
armies,  betray  thine  enemy?  The  Moor  is  an  enemy  bit- 
terer to  myself  than  to  thee.  Because  I  betray  an  enemy, 
am  I  unworthy  to  serve  a  friend?  If  I,  a  single  man  and  a 
stranger  to  the  Moor,  can  yet  command  the  secrets  of  palaces 
and  render  vain  the  counsels  of  armed  men,  have  I  not  in  that 
attested  that  I  am  one  of  whom  a  wise  king  can  make  an  able 
servant?  " 


LEILA.  39 

"Thou  art  a  subtle  reasoner,  my  friend,"  said  Ferdinand, 
smiling  gently.  "  Peace  go  with,  thee !  our  conference  for  the 
time  is  ended.     What  ho,  Perez  !  " 

The  attendant  appeared. 

"  Thou  hast  left  the  maiden  with  the  queen?  " 

"Sire,  you  have  been  obeyed." 

"  Conduct  this  stranger  to  the  guard  who  led  him  through 
the  camp.  He  quits  us  under  the  same  protection.  Fare- 
well !  Yet  stay,  —  thou  art  assured  that  Muza  Ben  Abil 
Gazan  is  in  the  prisons  of  the  Moor?" 

"Yes." 

"  Blessed  be  the  Virgin !  " 

"Thou  hast  heard  our  conference,  Father  Tomas?"  said  the 
king,  anxiously,  when  the  Hebrew  had  withdrawn. 

"I  have,  son." 

"Did  thy  veins  freeze  with  horror?" 

"Only  when  my  son  signed  the  scroll.  It  seemed  to  me 
then  that  I  saw  the  cloven  foot  of  the  tempter." 

"Tush,  father!  the  tempter  would  have  been  more  wise 
than  to  reckon  upon  a  faith  which  no  ink  and  no  parchment 
can  render  valid,  if  the  Church  absolve  the  compact.  Thoa 
understandest  me,  father?  " 

"  I  do.     I  know  your  pious  heart  and  well-judging  mind." 

"Thou  wert  right,"  resumed  the  king,  musingly,  "when 
thou  didst  tell  us  that  these  caitiff  Jews  were  waxing  strong 
in  the  fatness  of  their  substance.  They  would  have  equal 
laws,  the  insolent  blasphemers !  " 

"  Son !  "  said  the  Dominican,  with  earnest  adjuration,  "  God, 
who  has  prospered  your  arms  and  councils,  will  require  at 
your  hands  an  account  of  the  power  intrusted  to  you.  Shall 
there  be  no  difference  between  His  friends  and  His  foes,  — His 
disciples  and  His  crucifiers?  " 

"Priest,"  said  the  king,  laying  his  hand  on  the  monk's 
shoulder,  and  with  a  saturnine  smile  upon  his  countenance, 
"  were  religion  silent  in  this  matter,  policy  has  a  voice  loud 
enough  to  make  itself  heard.  The  Jews  demand  equal  rights : 
when  men  demand  equality  with  their  masters,  treason  is 
at  work,  and  Justice  sharpens  her  sword.     Equality!  these 


40  LEILA. 

wealthy  usurers !     Sacred  Virgin,  they  would  be  soon  buying 
up  our  kingdoms." 

The  Dominican  gazed  hard  on  the  king.     "Son,  I  trust 
thee,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  and  glided  from  the  tent. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   AMBUSH,    THE   STRIFE,    AND   THE   CAPTURE. 

The  dawn  was  slowly  breaking  over  the  wide  valley  of 
Granada  as  Almamen  pursued  his  circuitous  and  solitary 
path  back  to  the  city.  He  was  now  in  a  dark  and  entangled 
hollow,  covered  with  brakes  and  bushes,  from  amidst  which 
tall  forest  trees  rose  in  frequent  intervals,  gloomy  and  breath- 
less in  the  still  morning  air.  As,  emerging  from  this  jungle, 
if  so  it  may  be  called,  the  towers  of  Granada  gleamed  upon 
him,  a  human  countenance  peered  from  the  shade,  and  Alma- 
men started  to  see  two  dark  eyes  fixed  upon  his  own. 

He  halted  abruptly  and  put  his  hand  on  his  dagger,  when 
a  low,  sharp  whistle  from  the  apparition  before  him  was 
answered  around,  behind;  and  ere  he  could  draw  breath,  the 
Israelite  was  begirt  by  a  group  of  Moors  in  the  garb  of 
peasants. 

"Well,  my  masters,"  said  Almamen,  calmly,  as  he  encoun- 
tered the  wild,  savage  countenances  that  glared  upon  him, 
"think  you  there  is  aught  to  fear  from  the  solitary  santon?" 

"It  is  the  magician,"  whispered  one  man  to  his  neighbour, 
—  "let  him  pass." 

"Nay,"  was  the  answer,  "take  him  before  the  captain;  we 
have  orders  to  seize  upon  all  we  meet." 

This  counsel  prevailed;  and  gnashing  his  teeth  with  secret 
rage,  Almamen  found  himself  hurried  along  by  the  peasants 
through  the  thickest  part  of  the  copse.  At  length  the  proces- 
sion stopped  in  a  semicircular  patch  of  rank  sward,  in  which 


LEILA.  41 

several  head  of  cattle  were  quietly  grazing,  and  a  yet  more 
numerous  troop  of  peasants  reclined  around  upon  the  grass. 

"Whom  have  we  here?"  asked  a  voice  which  startled  back 
the  dark  blood  from  Almamen's  cheek;  and  a  Moor  of  com- 
manding presence  rose  from  the  midst  of  his  brethren.  "  By 
the  beard  of  the  Prophet,  it  is  the  false  santon !  What  dost 
thou  from  Granada  at  this  hour?" 

"Noble  Muza,"  returned  Almamen, — who,  though  indeed 
amazed  that  one  whom  he  had  imagined  his  victim  was  thus 
unaccountably  become  his  judge,  retained,  at  least,  the  sem- 
blance of  composure,  —  "  my  answer  is  to  be  given  only  to  my 
lord  the  king;  it  is  his  commands  that  I  obey." 

"Thou  art  aware,"  said  Muza,  frowning,  "that  thy  life  is 
forfeited  without  appeal?  Whatsoever  inmate  of  Granada  is 
found  without  the  walls  between  sunrise  and  sunset,  dies  the 
death  of  a  traitor  and  deserter." 

"The  servants  of  the  Alhambra  are  excepted,"  answered 
the  Israelite,  without  changing  countenance. 

"Ah,"  muttered  Muza,  as  a  painful  and  sudden  thought 
seemed  to  cross  him,  "can  it  be  possible  that  the  rumour  of 
the  city  has  truth,  and  that  the  monarch  of  Granada  is  in 
treaty  with  the  foe?"  He  mused  a  little;  and  then,  motion- 
ing the  Moors  to  withdraw,  he  continued  aloud :  "  Almamen, 
answer  me  truly :  hast  thou  sought  the  Christian  camp  with 
any  message  from  the  king?  " 

"I  have  not."  "  '^ 

"Art  thou  without  the  walls  on  the  mission  of  the  king?" 

"  If  I  be  so,  I  am  a  traitor  to  the  king  should  I  reveal  his 
secret." 

"I  doubt  thee  much,  santon,"  said  Muza,  after  a  pause;  "I 
know  thee  for  my  enemy,  and  I  do  believe  thy  counsels  have 
poisoned  the  king's  ear  against  me,  his  people,  and  his  duties. 
But  no  matter;  thy  life  is  spared  awhile.  Thou  remainest 
with  us,  and  with  us  shalt  thou  return  to  the  king." 

"But,  noble  Muza  — " 

"  I  have  said !  Guard  the  santon ;  mount  him  upon  one  of 
our  chargers:  he  shall  abide  with  us  in  our  ambush." 

While  Almamen  chafed  in  vain  at  his  arrest,  all  in  the 


42  LEILA. 

Christian  camp  was  yet  stiU.  At  lengtli,  as  the  sun  began  to 
lift  himself  above  the  mountains,  first  a  murmur,  and  then 
a  din,  betokened  warlike  preparations.  Several  parties  of 
horse,  under  gallant  and  experienced  leaders,  formed  them- 
selves in  different  quarters,  and  departed  in  different  ways, 
on  expeditions  of  forage,  or  in  the  hope  of  skirmish  with  the 
straggling  detachments  of  the  enemy.  Of  these,  the  best 
equipped  was  conducted  by  the  Marquis  de  Villena  and  his 
gallant  brother,  Don  Alonzo  de  Pacheco.  In  this  troop,  too, 
rode  many  of  the  best  blood  of  Spain;  for  in  that  chivalric 
army  the  officers  vied  with  each  other  who  should  most  eclipse 
the  meaner  soldiery  in  feats  of  personal  valour,  and  the  name 
of  Villena  drew  around  him  the  eager  and  ardent  spirits 
that  pined  at  the  general  inactivity  of  Ferdinand's  politic 
campaign. 

The  sun,  now  high  in  heaven,  glittered  on  the  splendid 
arms  and  gorgeous  pennons  of  Villena's  company  as,  leaving 
the  camp  behind,  it  entered  a  rich  and  wooded  district  that 
skirts  the  mountain  barrier  of  the  Vega.  The  brilliancy  of 
the  day,  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  the  hope  and  excitement 
of  enterprise,  animated  the  spirits  of  the  whole  party.  In 
these  expeditions  strict  discipline  was  often  abandoned,  from 
the  certainty  that  it  could  be  resumed  at  need.  Conversa- 
tion, gay  and  loud,  interspersed  at  times  with  snatches  of 
song,  was  heard  amongst  the  soldiery;  and  in  the  nobler 
group  that  rode  with  Villena,  there  was  even  less  of  the 
proverbial  gravity  of  Spaniards. 

"  Now,  Marquis, "  said  Don  Estevon  de  Suzon,  "  what  wager 
shall  be  between  us  as  to  which  lance  this  day  robs  Moorish 
beauty  of  the  greatest  number  of  its  worshippers?  " 

"My  falchion  against  your  jennet,"  said  Don  Alonzo  de 
Pacheco,  taking  up  the  challenge. 

"  Agreed.  But,  talking  of  beauty,  were  you  in  the  queen's 
pavilion  last  night,  noble  marquis?  It  was  enriched  by  a 
new  maiden,  whose  strange  and  sudden  apparition  none  can 
account  for.  Her  eyes  would  have  eclipsed  the  fatal  glance 
of  Cava;  and  had  I  been  Eodrigo,  I  might  have  lost  a  crown 
for  her  smile." 


LEILA.  43 

"  Ay, "  said  Villena,  "  I  heard  of  her  beauty,  —  some  hostage 
from  one  of  the  traitor  Moors  with  whom  the  king  (the  saints 
bless  him !)  bargains  for  the  city.  They  tell  me  the  prince 
incurred  the  queen's  grave  rebuke  for  his  attentions  to  the 
maiden." 

"And  this  morning  I  saw  that  fearful  Father  Tomas  steal 
into  the  prince's  tent.  1  wish  Don  Juan  well  through  the 
lecture.  The  monk's  advice  is  like  the  algarroba :  ^  when  it 
is  laid  up  to  dry,  it  may  l?e  reasonably  wholesome ;  but  it  is 
harsh  and  bitter  enough  when  taken  fresh." 

At  this  moment  one  of  the  subaltern  officers  rode  up  to  the 
marquis  and  whispered  in  his  ear. 

"Ha,"  said  Villena,  "the  Virgin  be  praised!  Sir  Knights, 
booty  is  at  hand.     Silence!  close  the  ranks." 

With  that,  mounting  a  little  eminence  and  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand,  the  marquis  surveyed  the  plain  below; 
and  at  some  distance  he  beheld  a  horde  of  Moorish  peasants 
driving  some  cattle  into  a  thick  copse.  The  word  was  hastily 
given,  the  troop  dashed  on,  every  voice  was  hushed,  and  the 
clatter  of  mail  and  the  sound  of  hoofs  alone  broke  the  deli- 
cious silence  of  the  noonday  landscape.  Ere  they  reached  the 
copse,  the  peasants  had  disappeared  within  it.  The  marquis 
marshalled  his  men  in  a  semicircle  round  the  trees,  and  sent 
on  a  detachment  to  the  rear,  to  cut  off  every  egress  from  the 
wood.  This  done,  the  troop  dashed  within.  For  the  first 
few  yards  the  space  was  more  open  than  they  had  anticipated ; 
but  the  ground  soon  grew  uneven,  rugged,  and  almost  precipi- 
tous, and  the  soil  and  the  interlaced  trees  alike  forbade  any 
rapid  motion  to  the  horse.  Don  Alonzo  de  Pacheco,  mounted 
on  a  charger  whose  agile  and  docile  limbs  had  been  tutored  to 
every  description  of  warfare,  and  himself  of  light  weight  and 
incomparable  horsemanship,  dashed  on  before  the  rest.  The 
trees  hid  him  for  a  moment;  when  suddenly  a  wild  yell  was 
heard,  and  as  it  ceased,  up  rose  the  solitary  voice  of  the  Span- 
iard, shouting,  "Santiago,  y  cierra,  Espana  (Saint  Jago,  and 
charge,  Spain)!" 

Each  cavalier  spurred  forward;  when  suddenly  a  shower  of 
1  The  algarroba  is  a  sort  of  legnmmous  plant  common  in  Spain. 


44  LEILA. 

darts  and  arrows  rattled  on  their  armour,  and  up  sprung  from 
bush  and  reeds  and  rocky  clift  a  number  of  Moors,  and  with 
wild  shouts  swarmed  around  the  Spaniards. 

"Back  for  your  lives,"  cried  Villenaj  "we  are  beset!  Make 
for  the  level  ground!  " 

He  turned,  spurred  from  the  thicket,  and  saw  the  Paynim 
foe  emerging  through  the  glen,  line  after  line  of  man  and 
horse,  each  Moor  leading  his  slight  and  fiery  steed  by  the 
bridle,  and  leaping  on  it  as  he  issued  from  the  wood  into  the 
plain.  Cased  in  complete  mail,  his  visor  down,  his  lance  in 
its  rest,  Villena  (accompanied  by  such  of  his  knights  as  could 
disentangle  themselves  from  the  Moorish  foot)  charged  upon 
the  foe.  A  moment  of  fierce  shock  passed :  on  the  ground  lay 
many  a  Moor,  pierced  through  by  the  Christian  lance,  and  on 
the  other  side  of  the  foe  was  heard  the  voice  of  Villena: 
"  Saint  Jago  to  the  rescue ! "  But  the  brave  marquis  stood 
almost  alone,  save  his  faithful  chamberlain,  Solier.  Several 
of  his  knights  were  dismounted,  and  swarms  of  Moors,  with 
lifted  knives,  gathered  round  them  as  they  lay,  searching  for 
the  joints  of  the  armour,  which  might  admit  a  mortal  wound. 
Gradually,  one  by  one,  many  of  Villena's  comrades  joined 
their  leader,  and  now  the  green  mantle  of  Don  Alonzo  de 
Pacheco  was  seen  waving  without  the  copse,  and  Villena  con- 
gratulated himself  on  the  safety  of  his  brother.  Just  at  that 
moment  a  Moorish  cavalier  spurred  from  his  troop  and  met 
Pacheco  in  full  career.  The  Moor  was  not  clad,  as  was  the 
common  custom  of  the  Paynim  nobles,  in  the  heavy  Christian 
armour:  he  wore  the  light,  flexile  mail  of  the  ancient  heroes 
of  Araby  or  Fez.  His  turban,  which  was  protected  by  chains 
of  the  finest  steel  interwoven  with  the  folds,  was  of  the  most 
dazzling  white ;  white  also  were  his  tunic  and  short  mantle; 
on  his  left  arm  hung  a  short  circular  shield,  in  his  right  hand 
was  poised  a  long  and  slender  lance.  As  this  Moor,  mounted 
on  a  charger  in  whose  raven  hue  not  a  white  hair  could  be 
detected,  dashed  forward  against  Pacheco,  both  Christian  and 
Moor  breathed  hard  and  remained  passive.  Either  nation 
felt  it  as  a  sacrilege  to  thwart  the  encounter  of  champions  so 
renowned. 


LEILA.  45 

"  God  save  my  brave  brother  I  "  muttered  Villena,  anxiously. 
"Amen!"  said  those  around  him;  for  all  who  had  ever  wit- 
nessed the  wildest  valour  in  that  war  trembled  as  they  recog- 
nized the  dazzling  robe  and  coal-black  charger  of  Muza  Ben 
Abil  Gazan.  Nor  was  that  renowned  infidel  mated  with  an 
unworthy  foe.  "Pride  of  the  tournament,  and  terror  of  the 
war,"  was  the  favourite  title  which  the  knights  and  ladies  of 
Castile  had  bestowed  on  Don  Alonzo  de  Pacheco. 

When  the  Spaniard  saw  the  redoubted  Moor  approach,  he 
halted  abruptly  for  a  moment;  and  then,  wheeling  his  horse 
around,  took  a  wider  circuit,  to  give  additional  impetus  to  his 
charge.  The  Moor,  aware  of  his  purpose,  halted  also,  and 
awaited  the  moment  of  his  rush;  when  once  more  he  darted 
forward,  and  the  combatants  met  with  a  skill  which  called 
forth  a  cry  of  involuntary  applause  from  the  Christians  them- 
selves. Muza  received  on  the  small  surface  of  his  shield  the 
ponderous  spear  of  Alonzo,  while  his  own  light  lance  struck 
upon  the  helmet  of  the  Christian,  and  by  the  exactness  of  the 
aim,  rather  than  the  weight  of  the  blow,  made  Alonzo  reel  in 
his  saddle. 

The  lances  were  thrown  aside ;  the  long,  broad  falchion  of 
the  Christian,  the  curved  Damascus  cimeter  of  the  Moor, 
gleamed  in  the  air.  They  reined  their  chargers  opposite 
each  other  in  grave  and  deliberate  silence. 

"Yield  thee.  Sir  Knight! "  at  length  cried  the  fierce  Moor; 
"  for  the  motto  on  my  cimeter  declares  that  if  thou  meetest  its 
stroke,  thy  days  are  numbered.  The  sword  of  the  believer  is 
the  Key  of  Heaven  and  Hell."  ^ 

"False  Paynim,"  answered  Alonzo,  in  a  voice  that  rang 
hollow  through  his  helmet,  "  a  Christian  knight  is  the  equal 
of  a  Moorish  army !  " 

Muza  made  no  reply,  but  left  the  rein  of  his  charger  on  his 
neck;  the  noble  animal  understood  the  signal,  and  with  a 
short,  impatient  cry  rushed  forward  at  full  speed.  Alonzo 
met  the  charge  with  his  falchion  upraised,  and  his  whole  body 
covered  with  his  shield ;  the  Moor  bent,  the  Spaniards  raised 
a  shout,  Muza  seemed  stricken  from  his  horse.  But  the  blow 
1  Such,  says  Sale,  is  the  poetical  phrase  of  the  Mohammedan  divines. 


46  LEILA. 

of  the  heavy  falchion  had  not  touched  him;  and,  seemingly 
without  an  effort,  the  curved  blade  of  his  own  cimeter,  glid- 
ing by  that  part  of  his  antagonist's  throat  where  the  helmet 
joins  the  cuirass,  passed  unresistingly  and  silently  through 
the  joints,  and  Alonzo  fell  at  once,  and  without  a  groan, 
from  his  horse,  — his  armour,  to  all  appearance,  unpene- 
trated,  while  the  blood  oozed  slow  and  gurgling  from  a  mor- 
tal wound. 

"  Allah  il  Allah ! "  shouted  Muza,  as  he  joined  his  friends ; 
"Lelilies!  Lelilies!"  echoed  the  Moors;  and  ere  the  Chris- 
tians recovered  their  dismay,  they  were  engaged  hand  to  hand 
with  their  ferocious  and  swarming  foes.  It  was,  indeed, 
fearful  odds,  and  it  was  a  marvel  to  the  Spaniards  how  the 
Moors  had  been  enabled  to  harbour  and  conceal  their  numbers 
in  so  small  a  space.  Horse  and  foot  alike  beset  the  company 
of  Villena,  already  sadly  reduced;  and  while  the  infantry, 
with  desperate  and  savage  fierceness,  thrust  themselves  under 
the  very  bellies  of  the  chargers,  encountering  both  the  hoofs 
of  the  steed  and  the  deadly  lance  of  the  rider,  in  the  hope  of 
finding  a  vulnerable  place  for  the  sharp  Moorish  knife,  the 
horsemen,  avoiding  the  stern  grapple  of  the  Spanish  warriors, 
harassed  them  by  the  shaft  and  lance,  —  now  advancing,  now 
retreating,  and  performing,  with  incredible  rapidity,  the  evo- 
lutions of  Oriental  cavalry.  But  the  life  and  soul  of  his  party 
was  the  indomitable  Muza.  With  a  rashness  which  seemed 
to  the  superstitious  Spaniards  like  the  safety  of  a  man  pro- 
tected by  magic,  he  spurred  his  ominous  black  barb  into  the 
very  midst  of  the  serried  phalanx  which  Villena  endeavoured 
to  form  around  him,  breaking  the  order  by  his  single  charge, 
and  from  time  to  time  bringing  to  the  dust  some  champion  of 
the  troop  by  the  noiseless  and  scarce-seen  edge  of  his  fatal 
cimeter. 

Villena,  in  despair  alike  of  fame  and  life,  and  gnawed  with 
grief  for  his  brother's  loss,  at  length  resolved  to  put  the  last 
hope  of  the  battle  on  his  single  arm.  He  gave  the  signal  for 
retreat ;  and  to  protect  his  troop,  remained  himself,  alone  and 
motionless,  on  his  horse,  like  a  statue  of  iron.  Though  not 
of  large  frame,  he  was  esteemed  the  best  swordsman,  next  only 


LEILA.  47 

to  Hernando  del  Pulgar  and  Gonsalvo  de  Cordova,  in  the 
army,  —  practised  alike  in  the  heavy  assault  of  the  Christian 
warfare,  and  the  rapid  and  dexterous  exercise  of  the  Moorish 
cavalry.  There  he  remained,  alone  and  grim,  —  a  lion  at  bay, 
—  while  his  troops  slowly  retreated  down  the  Yega,  and  their 
trumpets  sounded  loud  signals  of  distress  and  demands  for 
succour  to  such  of  their  companions  as  might  be  within  hear- 
ing. Yillena^s  armour  defied  the  shafts  of  the  Moors ;  and  as 
one  after  one  darted  towards  him,  with  whirling  cimeter  and 
momentary  assault,  few  escaped  with  impunity  from  an  eye 
equally  quick  and  a  weapon  more  than  equally  formidable. 
Suddenly,  a  cloud  of  dust  swept  towards  him;  and  Muza,  a 
moment  before  at  the  farther  end  of  the  field,  came  glittering 
through  that  cloud,  with  his  white  robe  waving  and  his  right 
arm  bare.  Villena  recognized  him,  set  his  teeth  hard,  and 
putting  spurs  to  his  charger,  met  the  rush.  Muza  swerved 
aside  just  as  the  heavy  falchion  swung  over  his  head,  and  by 
a  back  stroke  of  his  own  cimeter  shore  through  the  cuirass 
just  above  the  hip-joint,  and  the  blood  followed  the  blade. 
The  brave  cavaliers  saw  the  danger  of  their  chief;  three  of 
their  number  darted  forward,  and  came  in  time  to  separate 
the  combatants. 

Muza  stayed  not  to  encounter  the  new  reinforcement;  but 
speeding  across  the  plain,  was  soon  seen  rallying  his  own 
scattered  cavalry,  and  pouring  them  down,  in  one  general 
body,  upon  the  scanty  remnant  of  the  Spaniards. 

"  Our  day  is  come ! "  said  the  good  knight  Villena,  with 
bitter  resignation.  "Nothing  is  left  for  us,  my  friends,  but 
to  give  up  our  lives,  —  an  example  how  Spanish  warriors 
should  live  and  die.  May  God  and  the  Holy  Mother  forgive 
our  sins  and  shorten  our  purgatory !  " 

Just  as  he  spoke,  a  clarion  was  heard  at  a  distance,  and  the 
sharpened  senses  of  the  knights  caught  the  ring  of  advancing 
hoofs. 

"  We  are  saved ! "  cried  Estevon  de  Suzon,  rising  on  his 
stirrups. 

While  he  spoke,  the  dashing  stream  of  the  Moorish  horse 
broke  over  the  little  band,  and  Estevon  beheld  bent  upon 


48  LEILA. 

himself  the  dark  eyes  and  quivering  lip  of  Muza  Ben  Abil 
Gazan.  That  noble  knight  had  never,  perhaps,  till  then 
known  fear;  but  he  felt  his  heart  stand  still  as  he  now  stood 
opposed  to  that  irresistible  foe. 

"The  dark  fiend  guides  his  blade!"  thought  De  Suzon; 
"but  I  was  shriven  but  yestermorn."  The  thought  restored 
his  wonted  courage,  and  he  spurred  on  to  meet  the  cimeter  of 
the  Moor. 

His  assault  took  Muza  by  surprise.  The  Moor's  horse 
stumbled  over  the  ground,  cumbered  with  the  dead  and  slip- 
pery with  blood,  and  his  uplifted  cimeter  could  not  do  more 
than  break  the  force  of  the  gigantic  arm  of  De  Suzon  as  the 
knight's  falchion,  bearing  down  the  cimeter,  and  alighting 
on  the  turban  of  the  Mohammedan,  clove  midway  through  its 
folds,  arrested  only  by  the  admirable  temper  of  the  links  of 
steel  which  protected  it.  The  shock  hurled  the  Moor  to  the 
ground;  he  rolled  under  the  saddle-girths  of  his  antagonist. 

"Victory  and  Saint  Jago!"  cried  the  knight;  "Muza 
is  —  " 

The  sentence  was  left  eternally  unfinished.  The  blade  of 
the  fallen  Moor  had  already  pierced  De  Suzon' s  horse  through 
a  mortal  but  undefended  part.  It  fell,  bearing  his  rider  with 
him.  A  moment,  and  the  two  champions  lay  together  grap- 
pling in  the  dust;  in  the  next,  the  short  knife  which  the 
Moor  wore  in  his  girdle  had  penetrated  the  Christian's  vizor, 
passing  through  the  brain. 

To  remount  his  steed,  that  remained  at  hand  humbled  and 
motionless,  to  appear  again  amongst  the  thickest  of  the  fray, 
was  a  work  no  less  rapidly  accomplished  than  had  been  the 
slaughter  of  the  unhappy  Estevon  de  Suzon.  But  now  the 
fortune  of  the  day  was  stopped  in  a  progress  hitherto  so 
triumphant  to  the  Moors.    - 

Pricking  fast  over  the  plain  were  seen  the  glittering  horse- 
men of  the  Christian  reinforcements ;  and  at  the  remoter  dis- 
tance, the  royal  banner  of  Spain,  indistinctly  descried  through 
volumes  of  dust,  denoted  that  Ferdinand  himself  was  advan- 
cing to  the  support  of  his  cavaliers. 

The  Moors,  however,  who  had  themselves  received  many 


LEILA.  49 

and  mysterious  reinforcements,  which  seemed  to  spring  up  like 
magic  from  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  —  so  suddenly  and  unex- 
pectedly had  they  emerged  from  copse  and  cleft  in  that  moun- 
tainous and  entangled  neighbourhood,  —  were  not  unprepared 
for  a  fresh  foe.  At  the  command  of  the  vigilant  Muza  they 
drew  off,  fell  into  order,  and  seizing,  while  yet  there  was 
time,  the  vantage-ground  which  inequalities  of  the  soil  and 
the  shelter  of  the  trees  gave  to  their  darts  and  agile  horse, 
they  presented  an  array  which  Ponce  de  Leon  himself,  who 
now  arrived,  deemed  it  more  prudent  not  to  assault.  While 
Villena,  in  accents  almost  inarticulate  with  rage,  was  urging 
the  Marquis  of  Cadiz  to  advance,  Ferdinand,  surrounded  by 
the  flower  of  his  court,  arrived  at  the  rear  of  the  troops,  and 
after  a  few  words  interchanged  with  Ponce  de  Leon,  gave  the 
signal  of  retreat. 

When  the  Moors  beheld  that  noble  soldiery  slowly  breaking 
ground  and  retiring  towards  the  camp,  even  Muza  could  not 
control  their  ardour.  They  rushed  forward,  harassing  the 
retreat  of  the  Christians,  and  delaying  the  battle  by  various 
skirmishes. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  headlong  valour  of  Hernando 
del  Pulgar,  who  had  arrived  with  Ponce  de  Leon,  distin- 
guished itself  in  feats  which  yet  live  in  the  songs  of  Spain. 
Mounted  upon  an  immense  steed,  and  himself  of  colossal 
strength,  he  was  seen  charging  alone  upon  the  assailants, 
and  scattering  numbers  to  the  ground  with  the  sweep  of  his 
enormous  two-handed  falchion.  With  a  loud  voice  he  called 
on  Muza  to  oppose  him ;  but  the  Moor,  fatigued  with  slaugh- 
ter, and  scarcely  recovered  from  the  shock  of  his  encounter 
with  De  Suzon,  reserved  so  formidable  a  foe  for  a  future 
contest. 

It  was  at  this  juncture,  while  the  field  was  covered  with 
straggling  skirmishers,  that  a  small  party  of  Spaniards,  in 
cutting  their  way  to  the  main  body  of  their  countrymen 
through  one  of  the  numerous  copses  held  by  the  enemy,  fell 
in  at  the  outskirt  with  an  equal  number  of  Moors,  and 
engaged  them  in  a  desperate  conflict,  hand  to  hand.  Amidst 
the  infidels  was  one  man  who  took  no  part  in  the  affray.     At 

4 


50  LEILA. 

a  little  distance,  lie  gazed  for  a  few  moments  upon  the  fierce 
and  relentless  slaughter  of  Moor  and  Christian  with  a  smile 
of  stern  and  complacent  delight;  and  then,  taking  advantage 
of  the  general  confusion,  rode  gently  and,  as  he  hoped,  unob- 
served away  from  the  scene.  But  he  was  not  destined  so 
quietly  to  escape.  A  Spaniard  perceived  him,  and  from 
something  strange  and  unusual  in  his  garb,  judged  him  one 
of  the  Moorish  leaders;  and  presently  Almamen,  for  it  was 
he,  beheld  before  him  the  uplifted  falchion  of  a  foe  neither 
disposed  to  give  quarter  nor  to  hear  parley.  Brave  though 
the  Israelite  was,  many  reasons  concurred  to  prevent  his 
taking  a  personal  part  against  the  soldier  of  Spain ;  and  see- 
ing he  should  have  no  chance  of  explanation,  he  fairly  put 
spurs  to  his  horse  and  galloped  across  the  plain.  The  Span- 
iard followed,  gained  upon  him,  and  Almamen  at  length 
turned  in  despair  and  the  wrath  of  his  haughty  nature. 

"Have  thy  will,  fool! "  said  he,  between  his  grinded  teeth, 
as  he  griped  his  dagger  and  prepared  for  the  conflict.  It  was 
long  and  obstinate,  for  the  Spaniard  was  skilful;  and  the 
Hebrew,  wearing  no  mail,  and  without  any  weapon  more 
formidable  than  a  sharp  and  well-tempered  dagger,  was 
forced  to  act  cautiously  on  the  defensive.  At  length  the 
combatants  grappled,  and  by  a  dexterous  thrust  the  short 
blade  of  Almamen  pierced  the  throat  of  his  antagonist,  who 
fell  prostrate  to  the  ground. 

"I  am  safe,"  he  thought,  as  he  wheeled  round  his  horse; 
when  lo,  the  Spaniards  he  had  just  left  behind,  and  who  had 
now  routed  their  antagonists,  were  upon  him. 

"  Yield,  or  die ! "  cried  the  leader  of  the  troop. 

Almamen  glared  round;  no  succour  was  at  hand.  "I  am 
not  your  enemy,"  said  he  sullenly,  throwing  down  his  weapon, 
—  "bear  me  to  your  camp." 

A  trooper  seized  his  rein,  and,  scouring  along,  the  Spaniards 
soon  reached  the  retreating  army. 

Meanwhile  the  evening  darkened,  the  shout  and  the  roar 
grew  gradually  less  and  less  loud.  The  battle  had  ceased; 
the  stragglers  had  joined  their  several  standards;  and  by  the 
light  of  the  first  star  the  Moorish  force,  bearing  their  wounded 


LEILA.  61 

brethren,  and  elated  with  success,  re-entered  the  gates  of 
Granada  as  the  black  charger  of  the  hero  of  the  day,  clos- 
ing the  rear  of  the  cavalry,  disappeared  within  the  gloomy 
portals. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  HERO  IN  THE  POWER  OF  THE  DREAMER. 

It  was  in  the  same  chamber,  and  nearly  at  the  same  hour, 
in  which  we  first  presented  to  the  reader  Boabdil  el  Chico 
that  we  are  again  admitted  to  the  presence  of  that  ill-starred 
monarch.  He  was  not  alone.  His  favourite  slave,  Amine, 
reclined  upon  the  ottomans,  gazing  with  anxious  love  upon 
his  thoughtful  countenance  as  he  leaned  against  the  glitter- 
ing wall  by  the  side  of  the  casement,  gazing  abstractedly  on 
the  scene  below. 

From  afar  he  heard  the  shouts  of  the  populace  at  the 
return  of  Muza,  and  bursts  of  artillery  confirmed  the  tidings 
of  triumph  which  had  already  been  borne  to  his  ear. 

"May  the  king  live  forever!"  said  Amine,  timidly;  "his 
armies  have  gone  forth  to  conquer." 

"But  without  their  king,"  replied  Boabdil,  bitterly,  "and 
headed  by  a  traitor  and  a  foe.  I  am  meshed  in  the  nets  of 
an  inextricable  fate ! " 

"Oh,"  said  the  slave,  with  sudden  energy,  as,  clasping  her 
hands,  she  rose  from  her  couch, — "oh,  my  lord,  would  that 
these  humble  lips  dared  utter  other  words  than  those  of 
love!" 

"And  what  wise  counsel  would  they  give  me?"  asked 
Boabdil,  with  a  faint  smile.     "Speak  on." 

"I  will  obey  thee,  then,  even  if  it  displease,"  cried  Amine; 
and  she  rose,  her  cheek  glowing,  her  eyes  sparkling,  her  beau- 
tiful form  dilated.  "  I  am  a  daughter  of  Granada,  I  am  the  be- 
loved of  a  king;  I  will  be  true  to  my  birth  and  to  my  fortunes* 


52  LEILA. 

Boabdil  el  Chico,  the  last  of  a  line  of  heroes,  shake  off  these 
gloomy  fantasies,  these  doubts  and  dreams  that  smother  the 
fire  of  a  great  nature  and  a  kingly  soul !  Awake,  arise,  rob 
Granada  of  her  Muza;  be  thyself  her  Muza!  Trustest  thou 
to  magic  and  to  spells?  Then  grave  them  on  thy  breastplate, 
write  them  on  thy  sword,  and  live  no  longer  the  Dreamer  of 
the  Alhambra,  become  the  saviour  of  thy  people ! " 

Boabdil  turned  and  gazed  on  the  inspired  and  beautiful 
form  before  him  with  mingled  emotions  of  surprise  and  shame. 
^'Out  of  the  mouth  of  woman  cometh  my  rebuke,"  said  he, 
sadly.     "It  is  well!'' 

"  Pardon  me,  pardon  me ! "  said  the  slave,  falling  humbly 
at  his  knees;  "but  blame  me  not  that  I  would  have  thee 
worthy  of  thyself.  Wert  thou  not  happier,  was  not  thy 
heart  more  light  and  thy  hope  more  strong  when,  at  the 
head  of  thine  armies,  thine  own  cimeter  slew  thine  own  foes, 
and  the  terror  of  the  Hero-king  spread,  in  flame  and  slaugh- 
ter, from  the  mountains  to  the  seas.  Boabdil,  dear  as  thou 
art  to  me,  —  equally  as  I  would  have  loved  thee  hadst  thou 
been  born  a  lowly  fisherman  of  the  Darro,  —  since  thou  art  a 
king,  I  would  have  thee  die  a  king,  even  if  my  own  heart 
broke  as  I  armed  thee  for  thy  latest  battle !  " 

"Thou  knowest  not  what  thou  sayest,  Amine,"  said  Boab- 
dil, "nor  canst  thou  tell  what  spirits  that  are  not  of  earth 
dictate  to  the  actions  and  watch  over  the  destinies  of  the 
rulers  of  nations.  If  I  delay,  if  I  linger,  it  is  not  from  terror, 
but  from  wisdom.  The  cloud  must  gather  on,  dark  and  slow, 
ere  the  moment  for  the  thunderbolt  arrives." 

"  On  thine  own  house  will  the  thunderbolt  fall,  since  over 
thine  own  house  thou  sufferest  the  cloud  to  gather,"  said  a 
calm  and  stern  voice. 

Boabdil  started;  and  in  the  chamber  stood  a  third  person, 
in  the  shape  of  a  woman,  past  middle  age,  and  of  command- 
ing port  and  stature.  Upon  her  long-descending  robes  of 
embroidered  purple  were  thickly  woven  jewels  of  royal  price, 
and  her  dark  hair,  slightly  tinged  with  gray,  parted  over  a 
majestic  brow,  while  a  small  diadem  surmounted  the  folds  of 
the  turban. 


\ 


LEILA.  5a 

"My  mother,"  said  Boabdil,  with  some  haughty  reserve  in 
his  tone,  "your  presence  is  unexpected." 

"Ay,"  answered  Ayxa  la  Horra, — for  it  was  indeed  that 
celebrated  and  haughty  and  high-souled  queen,  — "  and  un- 
welcome; so  is  ever  that  of  your  true  friends.  But  not  thus 
unwelcome  was  the  presence  of  your  mother  when  her  brain 
and  her  hand  delivered  you  from  the  dungeon  in  which  your 
stern  father  had  cast  your  youth,  and  the  dagger  and  the  bowl 
seemed  the  only  keys  that  would  unlock  the  cell." 

"And  better  hadst  thou  left  the  ill-omened  son  that  thy 
womb  conceived  to  die  thus  in  youth,  honoured  and  lamented, 
than  to  live  to  manhood,  wrestling  against  an  evil  star  and  a 
relentless  fate." 

"Son,"  said  the  queen,  gazing  upon  him  with  lofty  and  half 
disdainful  compassion,  "men's  conduct  shapes  out  their  own 
fortunes,  and  the  unlucky  are  never  the  valiant  and  the  wise." 

"Madam,"  said  Boabdil,  colouring  with  passion,  "I  am  still 
a  king,  nor  will  I  be  thus  bearded.     Withdraw !  " 

Ere  the  queen  could  reply,  a  eunuch  entered,  and  whispered 
Boabdil. 

"Ha!  "  said  he,  joyfully,  stamping  his  foot,  "comes  he  then 
to  brave  the  lion  in  his  den?  Let  the  rebel  look  to  it.  Is  he 
alone?" 

"Alone,  great  king." 

"Bid  my  guards  wait  without;  let  the  slightest  signal 
summon  them.     Amine,  retire!     Madam  —  " 

"  Son ! "  interrupted  Ayxa  la  Horra,  in  visible  agitation, 
"do  I  guess  aright?  Is  the  brave  Muza,  the  sole  bulwark 
and  hope  of  Granada,  whom  unjustly  thou  wouldst  last  night 
have  placed  in  chains  (chains!  Great  Prophet,  is  it  thus  a 
king  should  reward  his  heroes?),  — is,  I  say,  Muza  here,  and 
wilt  thou  make  him  the  victim  of  his  own  generous  trust?  " 

"Ketire,  woman,"  said  Boabdil,  sullenly. 

"  I  will  not,  save  by  force.  I  resisted  a  fiercer  soul  than 
thine  when  I  saved  thee  from  thy  father." 

"Kemain,  then,  if  thou  wilt,  and  learn  how  kings  can 
punish  traitors.     Mesnour,  admit  the  hero  of  Granada." 

Amine  had  vanished.      Boabdil    seated    himself    on    the 


54  LEILA. 

cushions,  his  face  calm  but  pale.  The  queen  stood  erect  at 
a  little  distance,  her  arms  folded  on  her  breast,  and  her 
aspect  knit  and  resolute.  In  a  few  moments  Muza  entered, 
alone.  He  approached  the  king  with  the  profound  salutation 
of  Oriental  obeisance,  and  then  stood  before  him  with  down- 
cast eyes,  in  an  attitude  from  which  respect  could  not  divorce 
a  natural  dignity  and  pride  of  mien. 

"Prince,"  said  Boabdil,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "yester- 
morn,  when  I  sent  for  thee,  thou  didst  brave  my  orders.  Even 
in  mine  own  Alhambra  thy  minions  broke  out  in  mutiny ;  they 
surrounded  the  fortress  in  which  thou  wert  to  wait  my  pleas- 
ure; they  intercepted,  they  insulted,  they  drove  back  my 
guards ;  they  stormed  the  towers  protected  by  the  banner  of 
thy  king.  The  governor,  a  coward  or  a  traitor,  rendered 
thee  to  the  rebellious  crowd.  Was  this  all?  No,  by  the 
Prophet.  Thou,  by  right  my  captive,  didst  leave  thy  prison 
but  to  head  mine  armies.  And  this  day  the  traitor  subject, 
the  secret  foe,  was  the  leader  of  a  people  who  defy  a  king. 
This  night  thou  comest  to  me  unsought.  Thou  feelest  secure 
from  my  just  wrath,  even  in  my  palace.  Thine  insolence 
blinds  and  betrays  thee.  Man,  thou  art  in  my  power !  Ho, 
there!" 

As  the  king  spoke,  he  rose;  and  presently  the  arcades  at 
the  back  of  the  pavilion  were  darkened  by  long  lines  of  the 
Ethiopian  guard,  each  of  height  which,  beside  the  slight 
Moorish  race,  appeared  gigantic,  —  stolid  and  passionless 
machines,  to  execute,  without  thought,  the  bloodiest  or  the 
slightest  caprice  of  despotism.  There  they  stood,  their  silver 
breastplates  and  long  earrings  contrasting  their  dusky  skins, 
and  bearing  over  their  shoulders  immense  clubs  studded  with 
brazen  nails. 

A  little  advanced  from  the  rest  stood  the  captain,  with  the 
fatal  bowstring  hanging  carelessly  on  his  arm,  and  his  eyes 
intent  to  catch  the  slightest  gesture  of  the  king. 

"  Behold ! "  said  Boabdil  to  his  prisoner. 

"I  do,  and  am  prepared  for  what  I  have  foreseen." 

The  queen  grew  pale,  but  continued  silent. 

Muza  resumed. 


LEILA.  65 

"Lord  of  the  faithful! "  said  he,  " if  yestermorn  I  had  acted 
otherwise,  it  would  have  been  to  the  ruin  of  thy  throne  and 
our  common  race.  The  fierce  Zegris  suspected  and  learned 
my  capture.  They  summoned  the  troops ;  they  delivered  me, 
it  is  true.  At  that  time  had  I  reasoned  with  them,  it  would 
have  been  as  drops  upon  a  flame.  They  were  bent  on  besieg- 
ing thy  palace,  —  perhaps  upon  demanding  thy  abdication.  I 
could  not  stifle  their  fury,  but  I  could  direct  it.  In  the  mo- 
ment of  passion  I  led  them  from  rebellion  against  our  com- 
mon king  to  victory  against  our  common  foe.  That  duty 
done,  I  come,  unscathed  from  the  sword  of  the  Christian,  to 
bare  my  neck  to  the  bowstring  of  my  friend.  Alone,  un- 
tracked,  unsuspected,  I  have  entered  thy  palace,  to  prove  to 
the  sovereign  of  Granada  that  the  defendant  of  his  throne  is 
not  a  rebel  to  his  will.  Now  summon  the  guards;  I  have 
done." 

"Muza,"  said  Boabdil,  in  a  softened  voice,  while  he  shaded 
his  face  with  his  hand,  "  we  played  together  as  children,  and 
I  have  loved  thee  well.  My  kingdom  even  now,  perchance, 
is  passing  from  me;  but  I  could  almost  be  reconciled  to  that 
loss,  if  I  thought  thy  loyalty  had  not  left  me." 

"  Dost  thou  in  truth  suspect  the  faith  of  Muza  Ben  Abil 
Gazan?"  said  the  Moorish  prince,  in  a  tone  of  surprise  and 
sorrow.  "Unhappy  king!  I  deemed  that  my  services,  and 
not  my  defection,  made  my  crime." 

"  Why  do  my  people  hate  me?  Why  do  my  armies  menace?  " 
said  Boabdil,  evasively.  "  Why  should  a  subject  possess  that 
allegiance  which  a  king  cannot  obtain?" 

"Because,"  replied  Muza,  boldly,  "the  king  has  delegated 
to  a  subject  the  command  he  should  himself  assume.  Oh, 
Boabdil,"  he  continued  passionately,  "friend  of  my  boyhood 
ere  the  evil  days  came  upon  us,  gladly  would  I  sink  to  rest 
beneath  the  dark  waves  of  yonder  river  if  thy  arm  and  brain 
would  fill  up  my  place  amongst  the  warriors  of  Granada. 
And  think  not  I  say  this  only  from  our  boyish  love ;  think 
not  I  have  placed  my  life  in  thy  hands  only  from  that  servile 
loyalty  to  a  single  man  which  the  false  chivalry  of  Christen- 
dom imposes  as  a  sacred  creed  upon  its  knights  and  nobles. 


56  LEILA. 

But  I  speak  and  act  but  from  one  principle,  —  to  save  the 
religion  of  my  father  and  the  land  of  my  birth.  For  this  I 
have  risked  my  life  against  the  foej  for  this  1  surrender  my 
life  to  the  sovereign  of  my  country.  Granada  may  yet  sur- 
vive, if  monarch  and  people  unite  together  j  Granada  is  lost 
forever  if  her  children  at  this  fatal  hour  are  divided  against 
themselves.  If,  then,  I,  0  Boabdil,  am  the  true  obstacle  to 
thy  league  with  thine  own  subjects,  give  me  at  once  to  the 
bowstring,  and  my  sole  prayer  shall  be  for  the  last  remnant 
of  the  Moorish  name,  and  the  last  monarch  of  the  Moorish 
dynasty." 

"My  son,  my  son,  art  thou  convinced  at  last?"  cried  the 
queen,  struggling  with  her  tears ;  for  she  was  one  who  wept 
easily  at  heroic  sentiments,  but  never  at  the  softer  sorrows  or 
from  the  more  womanly  emotions. 

Boabdil  lifted  his  head  with  a  vain  and  momentary  attempt 
at  pride ;  his  eye  glanced  from  his  mother  to  his  friend,  and 
his  better  feelings  gushed  upon  him  with  irresistible  force. 
He  threw  himself  into  Muza's  arms. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  in  broken  accents,  "forgive  me! 
How  could  I  have  wronged  thee  thus?  Yes,"  he  continued, 
as  he  started  from  the  noble  breast  on  which  for  a  moment 
he  indulged  no  ungenerous  weakness, — "yes,  prince,  your 
example  shames,  but  it  fires  me.  Granada  henceforth  shall 
have  two  chieftains ;  and  if  I  be  jealous  of  thee,  it  shall  be 
from  an  emulation  thou  canst  not  blame.  Guards,  retire. 
Mesnour !  ho,  Mesnour !  Proclaim  at  daybreak  that  I  myself 
will  review  the  troops  in  the  Vivarrambla.  Yet,"  and  as  he 
spoke  his  voice  faltered  and  his  brow  became  overcast,  —  "yet 
stay,  seek  me  thyself  at  daybreak,  and  I  will  give  thee  my 
commands." 

"Oh,  my  son,  why  hesitate,"  cried  the  queen,  "why  waver? 
Prosecute  thine  own  kingly  designs,  and  —  " 

"Hush,  madam,"  said  Boabdil,  regaining  his  customary 
cold  composure ;  "  and  since  you  are  now  satisfied  with  your 
son,  leave  me  alone  with  Muza." 

The  queen  sighed  heavily;  but  there  was  something  in  the 
calm  of  Boabdil  which  chilled  and  awed  her  more  than  his 


LEILA.  67 

bursts  of  passion.     She  drew  her  veil  around  her,  and  passed 
slowly  and  reluctantly  from  the  chamber. 

"Muza,"  said  Boabdil,  when  alone  with  the  prince,  and 
fixing  his  large  and  thoughtful  eyes  upon  the  dark  orbs  of 
his  companion,  "when,  in  our  younger  days,  we  conversed 
together,  do  you  remember  how  often  that  converse  turned 
upon  those  solemn  and  mysterious  themes  to  which  the  sages 
of  our  ancestral  land  directed  their  deepest  lore,  —  the 
enigmas  of  the  stars,  the  science  of  fate,  the  wild  searches 
into  the  clouded  future  which  hides  the  destinies  of  nations 
and  of  men?  Thou  rememberest,  Muza,  that  to  such  studies 
mine  own  vicissitudes  and  sorrows,  even  in  childhood,  the 
strange  fortunes  which  gave  me  in  my  cradle  the  epithet  of 
El  Zogoybi,  the  ominous  predictions  of  santons  and  astrolo- 
gers as  to  the  trials  of  my  earthly  fate,  —  all  contributed  to 
incline  my  soul.  Thou  didst  not  despise  those  earnest  mus- 
ings nor  our  ancestral  lore,  though,  unlike  me,  ever  more 
inclined  to  action  than  to  contemplation,  that  which  thou 
mightest  believe  had  little  influence  upon  what  thou  didst 
design.  With  me  it  hath  been  otherwise,  —  every  event  of 
life  hath  conspired  to  feed  my  early  prepossessions;  and  in 
this  awful  crisis  of  my  fate  I  have  placed  myself  and  my 
throne  rather  under  the  guardianship  of  spirits  than  of  men. 
This  alone  has  reconciled  me  to  inaction,  to  the  torpor  of  the 
Alhambra,  to  the  mutinies  of  my  people.  I  have  smiled  when 
foes  surrounded  and  friends  deserted  me,  secure  of  the  aid  at 
last,  —  if  I  bided  but  the  fortunate  hour,  —  of  the  charms  of 
protecting  spirits  and  the  swords  of  the  invisible  creation. 
Thou  wonderest  what  this  should  lead  to.  Listen!  Two 
nights  since,"  and  the  king  shuddered,  "I  was  with  the  dead  I 
My  father  appeared  before  me,  not  as  I  knew  him  in  life,  — 
gaunt  and  terrible,  full  of  the  vigour  of  health  and  the 
strength  of  kingly  empire  and  of  fierce  passion,  —  but  wan, 
calm,  shadowy.  From  lips  on  which  Azrael  had  set  his  livid 
seal  he  bade  me  beware  of  thee  !  " 

The  king  ceased  suddenly,  and  sought  to  read  on  the  face 
of  Muza  the  effect  his  words  produced.  But  the  proud  and 
swarthy  features  of  the  Moor  evinced  no  pang  of  conscience; 


58  LEILA. 

a  slight  smile  of  pity  might  have  crossed  his  lip  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  it  vanished  ere  the  king  could  detect  it.  Boabdil 
continued. 

"Under  the  influence  of  this  warning,  I  issued  the  order 
for  thy  arrest.  Let  this  pass,  —  I  resume  my  tale.  I  at- 
tempted to  throw  myself  at  the  spectre's  feet;  it  glided  from 
me,  motionless  and  impalpable.  I  asked  the  Dead  One  if  he 
forgave  his  unhappy  son  the  sin  of  rebellion,  —  alas !  too  well 
requited  even  upon  earth.  And  the  voice  again  came  forth, 
and  bade  me  keep  the  crown  that  I  had  gained,  as  the  sole 
atonement  for  the  past.  Then  again  I  asked  whether  the 
hour  for  action  had  arrived.  And  the  spectre,  while  it  faded 
gradually  into  air,  answered,  *  No. '  *  Oh, '  I  exclaimed,  *  ere 
thou  leavest  me,  be  one  sign  accorded  me  that  I  have  not 
dreamed  this  vision;  aad  give  me,  I  pray  thee,  note  and 
warning  when  the  evil  star  of  Boabdil  shall  withhold  its 
influence,  and  he  may  strike,  without  resistance  from  the 
Powers  above,  for  his  glory  and  his  throne. '  *  The  sign  and 
the  warning  are  bequeathed  thee, '  answered  the  ghostly  image. 
It  vanished ;  thick  darkness  fell  around,  and  when  once  more 
the  light  of  the  lamps  we  bore  became  visible,  behold  there 
stood  before  me  a  skeleton  in  the  regal  robe  of  the  kings  of 
Granada,  and  on  its  grisly  head  was  the  imperial  diadem. 
With  one  hand  raised,  it  pointed  to  the  opposite  wall, 
wherein  burned,  like  an  orb  of  gloomy  fire,  a  broad  dial- 
plate,  on  which  were  graven  these  words :  *  beware  ;  fear 
NOT ;  ARM ! '  The  finger  of  the  dial  moved  rapidly  round,  and 
rested  at  the  word  '  beware.'  From  that  hour  to  the  one  in 
which  I  last  beheld  it,  it  hath  not  moved.  Muza,  the  tale  is 
done.  Wilt  thou  visit  with  me  this  enchanted  chamber,  and 
see  if  the  hour  be  come?" 

"Commander  of  the  faithful,"  said  Muza,  "the  story  is 
dread  and  awful.  But  pardon  thy  friend,  —  wert  thou  alone, 
or  was  the  santon  Almamen  thy  companion?" 

"Why  the  question?"  said  Boabdil,  evasively,  and  slightly 
colouring. 

"I  fear  his  truth,"  answered  Muza.  "The  Christian  king 
conquers  more  foes  by  craft  than  force,  and  his  spies  are  more 


LEILA.  69 

deadly  tlian  his  warriors.  Wherefore  this  caution  against  me, 
but  (pardon  me)  for  thine  own  undoing?  Were  I  a  traitor, 
could  Ferdinand  himself  have  endangered  thy  crown  so  immi- 
nently as  the  revenge  of  the  leader  of  thine  own  armies? 
Why,  too,  this  desire  to  keep  thee  inactive?  For  the  brave 
every  hour  hath  its  chances ;  but  for  us,  every  hour  increases 
our  peril.  If  we  seize  not  the  present  time,  our  supplies  are 
cut  off,  —  and  famine  is  a  foe  all  our  valour  cannot  resist. 
This  dervise,  who  is  he?  A  stranger,  not  of  our  race  and 
blood.  But  this  morning  I  found  him  without  the  walls,  not 
far  from  the  Spaniards'  camp." 

"Ha! "  cried  the  king,  quickly,  "and  what  said  he?" 

"  Little,  but  in  hints,  —  sheltering  himself,  by  loose  hints, 
under  thy  name." 

"He!  What  dared  he  own?  Muza,  what  were  those 
hints?" 

The  Moor  here  recounted  the  interview  with  Almamen, 
his  detention,  his  inactivity  in  the  battle,  and  his  subsequent 
capture  by  the  Spaniards.  The  king  listened  attentively, 
and  regained  his  composure. 

"It  is  a  strange  and  awful  man,"  said  he,  after  a  pause. 
"  Guards  and  chains  will  not  detain  him.  Ere  long  he  will 
return.  But  thou  at  least,  Muza,  art  henceforth  free,  alike 
from  the  suspicion  of  the  living  and  the  warnings  of  the  dead. 
No,  my  friend,"  continued  Boabdil,  with  generous  warmth,  "it 
is  better  to  lose  a  crown,  to  lose  life  itself,  than  confidence  in 
a  heart  like  thine.  Come,  let  us  inspect  this  magic  tablet; 
perchance  —  and  how  my  heart  bounds  as  I  utter  the  hope !  — 
the  hour  may  have  arrived." 


60  LEILA. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

A   FULLER   VIEW   OF   THE   CHARACTER   OF   BOABDIL.  —  MUZA 
IN    THE   GARDENS    OF   HIS    BELOVED. 

MuzA  Ben  Abil  Gazan  returned  from  his  visit  to  Boabdil 
with  a  thoughtful  and  depressed  spirit.  His  arguments  had 
failed  to  induce  the  king  to  disdain  the  command  of  the  magic 
dial,  which  still  forebade  him  to  arm  against  the  invaders  j 
and  although  the  royal  favour  was  no  longer  withdrawn  from 
himself,  the  Moor  felt  that  such  favour  hung  upon  a  capri- 
cious and  uncertain  tenure  so  long  as  his  sovereign  was  the 
slave  of  superstition  or  imposture.  But  that  noble  warrior, 
whose  character  the  adversity  of  his  country  had  singularly 
exalted  and  refined,  even  while  increasing  its  natural  fierce- 
ness, thought  little  of  himself  in  comparison  with  the  evils 
and  misfortunes  which  the  king's  continued  irresolution  must 
bring  upon  Granada. 

"So  brave,  and  yet  so  weak,"  thought  he;  "so  weak,  and 
yet  so  obstinate ;  so  wise  a  reasoner,  yet  so  credulous  a  dupe ! 
Unhappy  Boabdil,  the  stars  indeed  seem  to  fight  against  thee, 
and  their  influences  at  thy  birth  marred  all  thy  gifts  and  vir- 
tues with  counteracting  infirmity  and  error." 

Muza  —  more,  perhaps,  than  any  subject  in  Granada  —  did 
justice  to  the  real  character  of  the  king;  but  even  he  was 
unable  to  penetrate  all  its  complicated  and  latent  mysteries. 
Boabdil  el  Chico  was  no  ordinary  man.  His  affections  were 
warm  and  generous,  his  nature  calm  and  gentle ;  and  though 
early  power  and  the  painful  experience  of  a  mutinous  people 
and  ungrateful  court  had  imparted  to  that  nature  an  irasci- 
bility of  temper  and  a  quickness  of  suspicion  foreign  to  its 
earlier  soil,  he  was  easily  led  back  to  generosity  and  justice; 
and  if  warm  in  resentment,  was  magnanimous  in  forgiveness. 
Deeply  accomplished  in  all  the  learning  of  his  race  and  time, 


LEILA.  61 

he  was  —  in  books,  at  least  —  a  philosopher;  and,  indeed,  his 
attachment  to  the  abstruser  studies  was  one  of  the  main  causes 
which  unfitted  him  for  his  present  station.  But  it  was  the 
circumstances  attendant  on  his  birth  and  childhood  that  had 
perverted  his  keen  and  graceful  intellect  to  morbid  indul- 
gence in  mystic  reveries  and  all  the  doubt,  fear,  and  irresolu- 
tion of  a  man  who  pushes  metaphysics  into  the  supernatural 
world.  Dark  prophecies  accumulated  omens  over  his  head; 
men  united  in  considering  him  born  to  disastrous  destinies. 
Whenever  he  had  sought  to  wrestle  against  hostile  circum- 
stances, some  seemingly  accidental  cause,  sudden  and  unfore- 
seen, had  blasted  the  labours  of  his  most  vigorous  energy,  the 
fruit  of  his  most  deliberate  wisdom.  Thus,  by  degrees  a 
gloomy  and  despairing  cloud  settled  over  his  mind;  but 
secretly  sceptical  of  the  Mohammedan  creed,  and  too  proud 
and  sanguine  to  resign  himself  wholly  and  passively  to  the 
doctrine  of  inevitable  predestination,  he  sought  to  contend 
against  the  machinations  of  hostile  demons  and  boding  stars, 
not  by  human,  but  spiritual  agencies.  Collecting  around 
him  the  seers  and  magicians  of  Orient-fanaticism,  he  lived 
in  the  visions  of  another  world;  and  flattered  by  the  promises 
of  impostors  or  dreamers,  and  deceived  by  his  own  subtle  and 
brooding  tendencies  of  mind,  it  was  amongst  spells  and  cabala 
that  he  thought  to  draw  forth  the  mighty  secret  which  was  to 
free  him  from  the  meshes  of  the  preternatural  enemies  of  his 
fortune,  and  leave  him  the  freedom  of  other  men  to  wrestle, 
with  equal  chances,  against  peril  and  adversities.  It  was 
thus  that  Almamen  had  won  the  mastery  over  his  mind;  and 
though  upon  matters  of  common  and  earthly  import  or  solid 
learning,  Boabdil  could  contend  with  sages,  upon  those  of 
superstition  he  could  be  fooled  by  a  child.  He  was  in  this 
a  kind  of  Hamlet,  formed,  under  prosperous  and  serene  for- 
tunes, to  render  blessings  and  reap  renown,  but  over  whom 
the  chilling  shadow  of  another  world  had  fallen,  whose  soul 
curdled  back  into  itself,  whose  life  had  been  separated  from 
that  of  the  herd,  whom  doubts  and  awe  drew  back,  while  cir- 
cumstances impelled  onward,  whom  a  supernatural  doom 
invested  with  a  peculiar  philosophy,  not  of  human  effect  and 


62  LEILA. 

cause,  and  who,  with  every  gift  that  could  ennoble  and  adorn, 
was  suddenly  palsied  into  that  mortal  imbecility  which  is 
almost  ever  the  result  of  mortal  visitings  into  the  haunted 
regions  of  the  Ghostly  and  Unknown.  The  gloomier  colour- 
ings of  his  mind  had  been  deepened,  too,  by  secret  remorse. 
For  the  preservation  of  his  own  life,  constantly  threatened  by 
his  unnatural  predecessor,  he  had  been  early  driven  into  re- 
bellion against  his  father.  In  age,  infirmity,  and  blindness, 
that  tierce  king  had  been  made  a  prisoner  at  Salobrena  by  his 
brother,  El  Zagal,  BoabdiPs  partner  in  rebellion;  and  dying 
suddenly,  El  Zagal  was  suspected  of  his  murder.  Though 
Boabdil  was  innocent  of  such  a  crime,  he  felt  himself  guilty 
of  the  causes  which  led  to  itj  and  a  dark  memory,  resting 
upon  his  conscience,  served  to  augment  his  superstition  and 
enervate  the  vigour  of  his  resolves:  for  of  all  things  that 
make  men  dreamers,  none  is  so  effectual  as  remorse  operating 
upon  a  thoughtful  temperament. 

Eevolving  the  character  of  his  sovereign,  and  sadly  fore- 
boding the  ruin  of  his  country,  the  young  hero  of  Granada 
pursued  his  way  until  his  steps,  almost  unconsciously,  led 
him  towards  the  abode  of  Leila.  He  scaled  the  walls  of  the 
garden  as  before,  he  neared  the  house.  All  was  silent  and 
deserted;  his  signal  was  unanswered,  his  murmured  song 
brought  no  grateful  light  to  the  lattice,  no  fairy  footstep  to 
the  balcony.  Dejected  and  sad  of  heart,  he  retired  from  the 
spot,  and  returning  home,  sought  a  couch,  to  which  even  all 
the  fatigue  and  excitement  he  had  undergone  could  not  win 
the  forgetfulness  of  slumber.  The  mystery  that  wrapped  the 
maiden  of  his  homage,  the  rareness  of  their  interviews,  and 
the  wild  and  poetical  romance  that  made  a  very  principle  of 
the  chivalry  of  the  Spanish  Moors,  had  imparted  to  Muza's 
love  for  Leila  a  passionate  depth  which  at  this  day,  and  in 
more  enervated  climes,  is  unknown  to  the  Mohammedan  lover. 
His  keenest  inquiries  had  been  unable  to  pierce  the  secret 
of  her  birth  and  station.  Little  of  the  inmates  of  that 
guarded  and  lonely  house  was  known  in  the  neighbourhood ; 
the  only  one  ever  seen  without  its  walls  was  an  old  man  of 
the  Jewish  faith,  supposed  to  be  a  superintendent  of  the  for- 


LEILA.  63 

eign  slaves  (for  no  Mohammedan  slave  would  have  been  sub- 
jected to  the  insult  of  submission  to  a  Jew) ;  and  though  there 
were  rumours  of  the  vast  wealth  and  gorgeous  luxury  within 
the  mansion,  it  was  supposed  the  abode  of  some  Moorish  emir 
absent  from  the  city,  and  the  interest  of  the  gossips  was  at 
this  time  absorbed  in  more  weighty  matters  than  the  affairs 
of  a  neighbour.  But  when,  the  next  eve,  and  the  next,  Muza 
returned  to  the  spot  equally  in  vain,  his  impatience  and  alarm 
could  no  longer  be  restrained;  he  resolved  to  lie  in  watch  by 
the  portals  of  the  house  night  and  day  until  at  least  he  could 
discover  some  one  of  the  inmates  whom  he  could  question  of 
his  love,  and  perhaps  bribe  to  his  service.  As  with  this  reso- 
lution he  was  hovering  round  the  mansion,  he  beheld,  stealing 
from  a  small  door  in  one  of  the  low  wings  of  the  house,  a 
bended  and  decrepit  form.  It  supported  its  steps  upon  a 
staff;  and  as,  now  entering  the  garden,  it  stooped  by  the  side 
of  a  fountain  to  cull  flowers  and  herbs  by  the  light  of  the 
moon,  the  Moor  almost  started  to  behold  a  countenance  which 
resembled  that  of  some  ghoul  or  vampire  haunting  the  places 
of  the  dead.  He  smiled  at  his  own  fear,  and  with  a  quick 
and  stealthy  pace  hastened  through  the  trees,  and  gaining  the 
spot  where  the  old  man  bent,  placed  his  hand  on  his  shoulder 
ere  his  presence  was  perceived. 

Ximen  —  for  it  was  he  —  looked  round  eagerly,  and  a  faint 
cry  of  terror  broke  from  his  lips. 

"Hush!"  said  the  Moor;  "fear  me  not,  I  am  a  friend. 
Thou  art  old,  man,  — gold  is  ever  welcome  to  the  aged."  As 
he  spoke,  he  dropped  several  broad  pieces  into  the  breast  of 
the  Jew,  whose  ghastly  features  gave  forth  a  yet  more  ghastly 
smile  as  he  received  the  gift,  and  mumbled  forth,  — 

"Charitable  young  man;  generous,  benevolent,  excellent 
young  man ! " 

"Now,  then,"  said  Muza,  "tell  me  —  you  belong  to  this 
house  —  Leila,  the  maiden  within  —  tell  me  of  her,  —  is  she 
well?" 

"I  trust  so,"  returned  the  Jew;  "I  trust  so,  noble  master." 

"Trust  so!     Know  you  not  of  her  state? " 

"Not  I;  for  many  nights  I  have  not  seen  her,  excellent 


64  LEILA. 

sir,"  answered  Ximen, — "she  hath  left  Granada,  she  hath 
gone.  You  waste  your  time  and  mar  your  precious  health 
amidst  these  nightly  dews ;  they  are  unwholesome,  very  un- 
wholesome, at  the  time  of  the  new  moon." 

"Gone!"  echoed  the  Moor;  "left  Granada!  Woe  is  me! 
And  whither?  There,  there,  more  gold  for  you:  old  man, 
tell  me  whither?" 

"  Alas !  I  know  not,  most  magnanimous  young  man.  I  am 
but  a  servant;  I  know  nothing." 

"When  will  she  return?" 

"I  cannot  tell  thee." 

"Who  is  thy  master?    Who  owns  yon  mansion?" 

Ximen's  countenance  fell;  he  looked  round  in  doubt  and 
fear,  and  then,  after  a  short  pause,  answered:  "A  wealthy 
man,  good  sir,  — a  Moor  of  Africa;  but  he  hath  also  gone;  he 
but  seldom  visits  us :  Granada  is  not  so  peaceful  a  residence 
as  it  was.     I  would  go  too,  if  I  could." 

Muza  released  his  hold  of  Ximen,  who  gazed  at  the  Moor's 
working  countenance  with  a  malignant  smile;  for  Ximen 
hated  all  men. 

"  Thou  hast  done  with  me,  young  warrior?  Pleasant  dreams 
to  thee  under  the  new  moon,  —  thou  hadst  best  retire  to  thy 
bed.     Farewell ;  bless  thy  charity  to  the  poor  old  man ! " 

Muza  heard  him  not;  he  remained  motionless  for  some 
moments,  and  then  with  a  heavy  sigh,  as  that  of  one  who 
has  gained  the  mastery  of  himself  after  a  bitter  struggle,  he 
said  half  aloud,  "Allah  be  with  thee,  Leila!  Granada  now 
is  my  only  mistress." 


CHAPTEK  V. 


Several  days  had  elapsed  without  any  encounter  between 
Moor  and  Christian;  for  Ferdinand's  cold  and  sober  policy, 
warned  by  the  loss  he  had  sustained  in  the  ambush  of  Muza, 


LEILA.  65 

was  now  bent  on  preserving  rigorous  restraint  upon  the  fiery- 
spirits  lie  commanded.  He  forbade  all  parties  of  skirmish, 
—  in  which  the  Moors,  indeed,  had  usually  gained  the  advan- 
tage, —  and  contented  himself  with  occupying  all  the  passes 
through  which  provisions  could  arrive  at  the  besieged  city. 
He  commenced  strong  fortifications  around  his  camp,  and  for- 
bidding assault  on  the  Moors,  defied  it  against  himself. 

Meanwhile,  Almamen  had  not  returned  to  Granada.  No 
tidings  of  his  fate  reached  the  king;  and  his  prolonged  dis- 
appearance began  to  produce  visible  and  salutary  effect  upon 
the  long  dormant  energies  of  Boabdil.  The  counsels  of  Muza, 
the  exhortations  of  the  queen-mother,  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
mistress.  Amine,  uncounteracted  by  the  arts  of  the  magician, 
aroused  the  torpid  lion  of  his  nature.  But  still  his  army  and 
his  subjects  murmured  against  him,  and  his  appearance  in  the 
Vivarrambla  might  possibly  be  the  signal  of  revolt.  It  was  at 
this  time  that  a  most  fortunate  circumstance  at  once  restored 
to  him  the  confidence  and  affections  of  his  people.  His  stern 
uncle.  El  Zagal,  —  once  a  rival  for  his  crown,  and  whose  dar- 
ing valour,  mature  age,  and  military  sagacity  had  won  him  a 
powerful  party  within  the  city,  —  had  been  some  months  since 
conquered  by  Ferdinand;  and  in  yielding  the  possessions  he 
held,  had  been  rewarded  with  a  barren  and  dependent  princi- 
pality. His  defeat,  far  from  benefiting  Boabdil,  had  exas- 
perated the  Moors  against  their  king.  "For,"  said  they, 
almost  with  one  voice,  "the  brave  El  Zagal  never  would 
have  succumbed,  had  Boabdil  properly  supported  his  arms." 
And  it  was  the  popular  discontent  and  rage  at  El  Zagal's 
defeat  which  had,  indeed,  served  Boabdil  with  a  reasonable 
excuse  for  shutting  himself  in  the  strong  fortress  of  the 
Alhambra.  It  now  happened  that  El  Zagal,  whose  dominant 
passion  was  hatred  of  his  nephew,  and  whose  fierce  nature 
chafed  at  its  present  cage,  resolved,  in  his  old  age,  to  blast  all 
his  former  fame  by  a  signal  treason  to  his  country.  Forget- 
ting everything  but  revenge  against  his  nephew,  who  he  was 
resolved  should  share  his  own  ruin,  he  armed  his  subjects, 
crossed  the  country,  and  appeared  at  the  head  of  a  gallant 
troop  in  the  Spanish  camp,  an  ally  with  Ferdinand  against 

5 


66  LEILA. 

Granada.  When  this  was  heard  by  the  Moors,  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  conceive  their  indignant  wrath.  The  crime  of  El  Zagal 
produced  an  instantaneous  reaction  in  favour  of  Boabdil ;  the 
crowd  surrounded  the  Alhambra,  and  with  prayers  and  tears 
entreated  the  forgiveness  of  the  king.  This  event  completed 
the  conquest  of  Boabdil  over  his  own  irresolution.  He  or- 
dained an  assembly  of  the  whole  army  in  the  broad  space  of 
the  Vivarrambla;  and  when  at  break  of  day  he  appeared  in  full 
armour  in  the  square,  with  Muza  at  his  right  hand,  himself  in 
the  flower  of  youthful  beauty,  and  proud  to  feel  once  more  a 
hero  and  a  king,  the  joy  of  the  people  knew  no  limit ;  the  air 
was  rent  with  cries  of  "  Long  live  Boabdil  el  Chico !  "  and  the 
young  monarch,  turning  to  Muza,  with  his  soul  upon  his  brow 
exclaimed,  "  The  hour  has  come :  I  am  no  longer  El  Zogoybi! " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

LEILA.  - —  HER   NEW   LOVER. PORTRAIT   OF    THE  FIRST   INQUIS- 
ITOR   OF    SPAIN. THE  CHALICE    RETURNED    TO    THE   LIPS    OF 

ALMAMEN. 

While  thus  the  state  of  events  within  Granada,  the  course 
of  our  story  transports  us  back  to  the  Christian  camp.  It 
was  in  one  of  a  long  line  of  tents  that  skirted  the  pavilion  of 
Isabel,  and  was  appropriated  to  the  ladies  attendant  on  the 
royal  presence,  that  a  young  female  sat  alone.  The  dusk  of 
evening  already  gathered  around,  and  only  the  outline  of  her 
form  and  features  was  visible.  But  even  that,  imperfectly 
seen,  —  the  dejected  attitude  of  the  form,  the  drooping  head, 
the  hands  clasped  upon  the  knees,  —  might  have  sufficed  to 
denote  the  melancholy  nature  of  the  revery  which  the  maid 
indulged. 

"Ah,"  thought  she,  "to  what  danger  am  I  exposed!  If  my 
father,  if  my  lover,  dreamed  of  the  persecution  to  which  their 
poor  Leila  is  abandoned! " 


LEILA.  67 

A  few  tears,  large  and  bitter,  broke  from  her  eyes  and  stole 
unheeded  down  her  cheek.  Ab  that  moment  the  deep  and 
musical  chime  of  a  bell  was  heard  summoning  the  chiefs  of 
the  army  to  prayer;  for  Ferdinand  invested  all  his  worldly 
schemes  with  a  religious  covering,  and  to  his  politic  war  he 
sought  to  give  the  imposing  character  of  a  sacred  crusade. 

"That  sound,"  thought  she,  sinking  on  her  knees,  "sum- 
mons the  Nazarenes  to  the  presence  of  their  God.  It  reminds 
me,  a  captive  by  the  waters  of  Babylon,  that  God  is  ever  with 
the  friendless.  Oh,  succour  and  defend  me.  Thou  who  didst 
look  of  old  upon  Euth  standing  amidst  the  corn,  and  didst 
watch  over  Thy  chosen  people  in  the  hungry  wilderness  and 
in  the  stranger's  land."- 

Kapt  in  her  mute  and  passionate  devotions,  Leila  re- 
mained long  in  her  touching  posture.  The  bell  had  ceased, 
all  without  was  hushed  and  still,  when  the  drapery  stretched 
across  the  opening  of  the  tent  was  lifted,  and  a  young  Span- 
iard, cloaked  from  head  to  foot  in  a  long  mantle,  stood  within 
the  space.  He  gazed  in  silence  upon  the  kneeling  maiden,  nor 
was  it  until  she  rose  that  he  made  his  presence  audible. 

"Ah,  fairest,"  said  he,  then,  as  he  attempted  to  take  her 
hand,  "  thou  wilt  not  answer  my  letters,  —  see  me,  then,  at 
thy  feet.     It  is  thou  who  teachest  me  to  kneel." 

"  You,  prince ! "  said  Leila,  agitated,  and  in  great  and  evi- 
dent fear.  "Why  harass  and  insult  me  thus?  Am  I  not 
sacred  as  a  hostage  and  a  charge?  And  are  name,  honour, 
peace,  and  all  that  woman  is  taught  to  hold  most  dear,  to  be 
thus  robbed  from  me  under  the  pretext  of  a  love  dishonouring 
to  thee  and  an  insult  to  myself?  " 

"Sweet  one,"  answered  Don  Juan,  with  a  slight  laugh, 
"thou  hast  learned,  within  yonder  walls,  a  creed  of  morals 
little  known  to  Moorish  maidens,  if  fame  belies  them  not. 
Suffer  me  to  teach  thee  easier  morality  and  sounder  logic. 
It  is  no  dishonour  to  a  Christian  prince  to  adore  beauty  like 
thine;  it  is  no  insult  to  a  maiden  hostage  if  the  Infant  of 
Spain  proffer  her  the  homage  of  his  heart.  But  we  waste 
time.  Spies  and  envious  tongues  and  vigilant  eyes  are  around 
us ;  and  it  is  not  often  that  I  can  baffle  them  as  I  have  done 


68  LEILA. 

now.  Fairest,  hear  me ! "  and  this  time  he  succeeded  in  seiz- 
ing the  hand  which  vainly  struggled  against  his  clasp.  "Nay, 
why  so  coy?  What  can  female  heart  desire  that  my  love  can- 
not shower  upon  thine?  Speak  but  the  word,  enchanting 
maiden,  and  I  will  bear  thee  from  these  scenes  unseemly  to 
thy  gentle  eyes.  Amidst  the  pavilions  of  princes  shalt  thou 
repose,  and  amidst  gardens  of  the  orange  and  the  rose  shalt 
thou  listen  to  the  vows  of  thine  adorer.  Surely  in  these  arms 
thou  wilt  not  pine  for  a  barbarous  home  and  a  fated  city. 
And  if  thy  pride,  sweet  maiden,  deafen  thee  to  the  voice  of 
Nature,  learn  that  the  haughtiest  dames  of  Spain  would  bend, 
in  envious  court,  to  the  beloved  of  their  future  king.  This 
night  —  listen  to  me  —  I  say,  listen  — *  this  night  I  will  bear 
thee  hence.  Be  but  mine,  and  no  matter  whether  heretic  or 
infidel,  or  whatever  the  priests  style  thee,  neither  church  nor 
king  shall  tear  thee  from  the  bosom  of  thy  lover." 

"  It  is  well  spoken,  son  of  the  most  Christian  monarch ! " 
said  a  deep  voice ;  and  the  Dominican,  Tomas  de  Torquemada, 
stood  before  the  prince. 

Juan,  as  if  struck  by  a  thunderbolt,  released  his  hold,  and, 
staggering  back  a  few  paces,  seemed  to  cower,  abashed  and 
humbled,  before  the  eye  of  the  priest  as  it  glared  upon  him 
through  the  gathering  darkness. 

"Prince,"  said  the  friar,  after  a  pause,  "not  to  thee  will 
our  Holy  Church  attribute  this  crime ;  thy  pious  heart  hath 
been  betrayed  by  sorcery.     Eetire !  " 

"Father,"  said  the  prince,  in  a  tone  into  which,  despite  his 
awe  of  that  terrible  man,  the  first  grand  inquisitor  of 
Spain,  his  libertine  spirit  involuntarily  forced  itself,  in  a  half 
latent  raillery,  "  sorcery  of  eyes  like  those  bewitched  the  wise 
son  of  a  more  pious  sire  than  even  Ferdinand  of  Arragon." 

"He  blasphemes,"  muttered  the  monk.  "Prince,  beware! 
You  know  not  what  you  do." 

The  prince  lingered,  and  then,  as  if  aware  that  he  must  yield, 
gathered  his  cloak  round  him  and  left  the  tent  without  reply. 

Pale  and  trembling,  —  with  fears  no  less  felt,  perhaps, 
though  more  vague  and  perplexed,  than  those  from  which  she 
had  just  been  delivered,  —  Leila  stood  before  the  monk. 


LEILA.  69 

*^Be  seated,  daughter  of  the  faithless,"  said  Torquemada; 
"we  would  converse  with  thee.  And  as  thou  valuest  —  I  say 
not  thy  soul,  for,  alas !  of  that  precious  treasure  thou  art  not 
conscious  —  but  mark  me,  woman!  as  thou  prizest  the  safety 
of  those  delicate  limbs  and  that  wanton  beauty,  answer  truly 
what  I  shall  ask  thee.  The  man  who  brought  thee  hither,  is 
he  in  truth  thy  father?  " 

"Alas!  "  answered  Leila,  almost  fainting  with  terror  at  this 
rude  and  menacing  address,  "  he  is,  in  truth,  mine  only  parent." 

"And  his  faith,  his  religion?" 

"I  have  never  beheld  him  pray." 

"Hem!  he  never  prays,  — a  noticeable  fact.  But  of  what 
sect,  what  creed,  does  he  profess  himself?" 

"I  cannot  answer  thee." 

"  Nay,  there  be  means  that  may  wring  from  thee  an  answer. 
Maiden,  be  not  so  stubborn ;  speak !  Thinkest  thou  he  serves 
the  temple  of  the  Mohammedan?  " 

"No,  oh,  no,"  answered  poor  Leila,  eagerly,  deeming  that 
her  reply  in  this,  at  least,  would  be  acceptable.  "He  dis- 
owns, he  scorns,  he  abhors,  the  Moorish  faith.  Even,"  she 
added,  "with  too  fierce  a  zeal." 

"  Thou  dost  not  share  that  zeal,  then?  Well,  worships  he 
in  secret  after  the  Christian  rites?" 

Leila  hung  her  head,  and  answered  not. 

"I  understand  thy  silence.  And  in  what  belief,  maiden, 
wert  thou  reared  beneath  his  roof?  " 

"I  know  not  what  it  is  called  among  men,"  answered  Leila, 
with  firmness,  "  but  it  is  the  faith  of  the  one  God,  who  pro- 
tects His  chosen  and  shall  avenge  their  wrongs,  —  the  God 
who  made  earth  and  heaven,  and  who,  in  an  idolatrous  and 
benighted  world,  transmitted  the  knowledge  of  Himself  and 
His  holy  laws  from  age  to  age  through  the  channel  of  one 
solitary  people  in  the  plains  of  Palestine  and  by  the  waters 
of  the  Hebron." 

"And  in  that  faith  thou  wert  trained,  maiden,  by  thy 
father?"  said  the  Dominican,  calmly.  "I  am  satisfied. 
Eest  here  in  peace;   we  may  meet  again  soon." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  with  a  soft  and  tranquil  smile, 


70  .    LEILA. 

—  a  smile  in  which  glazing  eyes  and  agonizing  hearts  had 
often  beheld  the  ghastly  omen  of  the  torture  and  the  stake. 

On  quitting  the  unfortunate  Leila,  the  monk  took  his  way 
towards  the  neighbouring  tent  of  Ferdinand.  But  ere  he 
reached  it,  a  new  thought  seemed  to  strike  the  holy  man;  he 
altered  the  direction  of  his  steps,  and  gained  one  of  those 
little  shrines  common  in  Catholic  countries,  and  which  had 
been  hastily  built  of  wood,  in  the  centre  of  a  small  copse  and 
by  the  side  of  a  brawling  rivulet,  towards  the  back  of  the 
king's  pavilion.  But  one  solitary  sentry,  at  the  entrance  of 
the  copse,  guarded  the  consecrated  place;  and  its  exceeding 
loneliness  and  quiet  were  a  grateful  contrast  to  the  animated 
world  of  the  surrounding  camp.  The  monk  entered  the 
shrine,  and  fell  down  on  his  knees  before  an  image  of  the 
Virgin,  rudely  sculptured,  indeed,  but  richly  decorated. 

"  Ah,  Holy  Mother ! "  groaned  this  singular  man,  "  support 
me  in  the  trial  to  which  I  am  appointed.  Thou  knowest  that 
the  glory  of  thy  blessed  Son  is  the  sole  object  for  which  I  live 
and  move  and  have  my  being;  but  at  times,  alas!  the  spirit  is 
infected  with  the  weakness  of  the  flesh.  Ora  pro  nobis,  O 
Mother  of  mercy !  Verily,  oftentimes  my  heart  sinks  within 
me  when  it  is  mine  to  vindicate  the  honour  of  thy  holy  cause 
against  the  young  and  the  tender,  the  aged  and  the  decrepit. 
But  what  are  beauty  and  youth,  gray  hairs  and  trembling 
knees,  in  the  eye  of  the  Creator?  Miserable  worms  are  we 
all ;  nor  is  there  anything  acceptable  in  the  Divine  sight  but 
the  hearts  of  the  faithful.  Youth  without  faith,  age  without 
belief,  purity  without  grace,  virtue  without  holiness,  are  only 
more  hideous  by  their  seeming  beauty,  —  whited  sepulchres, 
glittering  rottenness.  I  know  this,  I  know  it,  but  the  human 
man  is  strong  within  me.  Strengthen  me,  that  I  pluck  it  out; 
so  that,  by  diligent  and  constant  struggle  with  the  feeble 
Adam,  thy  servant  may  be  reduced  into  a  mere  machine  to 
punish  the  godless  and  advance  the  Church.'' 

Here  sobs  and  tears  choked  the  speech  of  the  Dominican; 
he  grovelled  in  the  dust,  he  tore  his  hair,  he  howled  aloud: 
the  agony  was  fierce  upon  him.  At  length  he  drew  from  his 
robe  a  whip  composed  of  several  thongs  studded  with  small 


LEILA.  71 

and  sharp  nails ;  and  stripping  his  gown  and  the  shirt  of  hair 
worn  underneath,  over  his  shoulders,  applied  the  scourge  to 
the  naked  flesh  with  a  fury  which  soon  covered  the  green- 
sward with  the  thick  and  clotted  blood.  The  exhaustion 
which  followed  this  terrible  penance  seemed  to  restore  the 
senses  of  the  stern  fanatic.  A  smile  broke  over  the  features, 
that  bodily  pain  only  released  from  the  anguished  expression 
of  mental  and  visionary  struggles;  and  when  he  rose,  and 
drew  the  hair-cloth  shirt  over  the  lacerated  and  quivering 
flesh,  he  said :  "  Now  hast  thou  deigned  to  comfort  and  visit 
me,  0  pitying  Mother;  and  even  as  by  these  austerities  against 
this  miserable  body  is  the  spirit  relieved  and  soothed,  so  dost 
thou  typify  and  betoken  that  men's  bodies  are  not  to  be  spared 
by  those  who  seek  to  save  souls  and  bring  the  nations  of  the 
earth  into  thy  fold." 

With  that  thought  the  countenance  of  Torquemada  re- 
assumed  its  wonted  rigid  and  passionless  composure;  and 
replacing  the  scourge,  yet  clotted  with  blood,  in  his  bosom, 
he  pursued  his  way  to  the  royal  tent. 

He  found  Ferdinand  poring  over  the  accounts  of  the  vast 
expenses  of  his  military  preparations,  which  he  had  just 
received  from  his  treasurer;  and  the  brow  of  the  thrifty, 
though  ostentatious  monarch,  was  greatly  overcast  by  the 
examination. 

"By  the  Bulls  of  Guisando,"  said  the  king,  gravely,  "I 
purchase  the  salvation  of  my  army  in  this  holy  war  at  a  mar- 
vellous heavy  price ;  and  if  the  infidels  hold  out  much  longer, 
we  shalt  have  to  pawn  our  very  patrimony  of  Arragon." 

"Son,"  answered  the  Dominican,  "to  purposes  like  thine, 
fear  not  that  Providence  itself  will  supply  the  worldly  means. 
But  why  doubtest  thou?  Are  not  the  means  within  thy 
reach?  It  is  just  that  thou  alone  shouldst  not  support  the  wars 
by  which  Christendom  is  glorified.     Are  there  not  others?" 

"I  know  what  thou  wouldst  say,  father,"  interrupted  the 
king,  quickly,  — "thou  wouldst  observe  that  my  brother  mon- 
archs  should  assist  me  with  arms  and  treasure.  Most  just. 
But  they  are  avaricious  and  envious,  Tomas,  and  Mammon 
hath  corrupted  them." 


72  LEILA. 

"Nay,  not  to  kings  pointed  my  thought." 

"  Well,  then, "  resumed  the  king,  impatiently,  "  thou  wouldst 
imply  that  mine  own  knights  and  nobles  should  yield  up  their 
coffers  and  mortgage  their  possessions.  And  so  they  ought; 
but  they  murmur  alread}^  at  what  they  have  yielded  to  our 
necessities." 

"And  in  truth,"  rejoined  the  friar,  "these  noble  warriors 
should  not  be  shorn  of  a  splendour  that  well  becomes  the  val- 
iant champions  of  the  Church.  Nay,  listen  to  me,  son,  and  I 
may  suggest  a  means  whereby,  not  the  friends,  but  enemies, 
of  the  Catholic  faith  shall  contribute  to  the  downfall  of  the 
Paynim.  In  thy  dominions,  especially  those  newly  won, 
throughout  Andalusia,  in  the  kingdom  of  Cordova,  are  men 
of  enormous  wealth;  the  very  caverns  of  the  earth  are  sown 
with  the  impious  treasure  they  have  plundered  from  Chris- 
tian hands,  and  consume  in  the  furtherance  of  their  iniquity. 
Sire,  I  speak  of  the  race  that  crucified  the  Lord." 

"  The  Jews  —  ay ;  but  the  excuse  —  " 

"Is  before  thee.  This  traitor  with  whom  thou  holdest 
intercourse,  who  vowed  to  thee  to  render  up  Granada,  and 
who  was  found  the  very  next  morning  fighting  with  the 
Moors,  with  the  blood  of  a  Spanish  martyr  red  upon  his 
hands,  did  he  not  confess  that  his  fathers  were  of  that  hate- 
ful race?  Did  he  not  bargain  with  thee  to  elevate  his  breth- 
ren to  the  rank  of  Christians?  And  has  he  not  left  with  thee, 
upon  false  pretences,  a  harlot  of  his  faith,  who,  by  sorcery 
and  the  help  of  the  Evil  One,  hath  seduced  into  frantic  pas- 
sion the  heart  of  the  heir  of  the  most  Christian  king?  " 

"  Ha,  thus  does  that  libertine  boy  ever  scandalize  us ! "  said 
the  king,  bitterly. 

"  Well, "  pursued  the  Dominican,  not  heeding  the  interrup- 
tion, "have  you  not  here  excuse  enough  to  wring  from  the 
whole  race  the  purchase  of  their  existence?  Note  the  glaring 
proof  of  this  conspiracy  of  hell.  The  outcasts  of  the  earth 
employed  this  crafty  agent  to  contract  with  thee  for  power; 
and,  to  consummate  their  guilty  designs,  the  arts  that  seduced 
Solomon  are  employed  against  thy  son.  The  beauty  of  the 
strange  woman  captivates  his   senses,  so  that  through  the 


LEILA.  73 

future  sovereign  of  Spain  the  counsels  of  Jewish  craft  may 
establish  the  domination  of  Jewish  ambition.  How  knowest 
thou,"  he  added,  as  he  observed  that  Ferdinand  listened  to 
him  with  earnest  attention, — "how  knowesb  thou  but  what 
the  next  step  might  have  been  thy  secret  assassination,  so 
that  the  victim  of  witchcraft,  the  minion  of  the  Jewess, 
might  reign  in  the  stead  of  the  mighty  and  unconquerable 
Ferdinand?  " 

"Go  on,  father,"  said  the  king,  thoughtfully;  "I  see  at 
least  enough  to  justify  an  impost  upon  these  servitors  of 
Mammon." 

"But  though  common-sense  suggests  to  us,"  continued 
Torquemada,  "that  this  disguised  Israelite  could  not  have 
acted  on  so  vast  a  design  without  the  instigation  of  his  breth- 
ren, not  only  in  Granada,  but  throughout  all  Andalusia,  would 
it  not  be  right  to  obtain  from  him  his  confession,  and  that  of 
the  maiden,  within  the  camp,  so  that  we  may  have  broad  and 
undeniable  evidence  whereon  to  act,  and  to  still  all  cavil,  that 
may  come  not  only  from  the  godless,  but  even  from  the  too 
tender  scruples  of  the  righteous?  Even  the  queen  —  whom 
the  saints  ever  guard! — hath  ever  too  soft  a  heart  for  these 
infidels,  and  —  " 

"Right,"  cried  the  king,  again  breaking  upon  Torquemada; 
"  Isabel,  the  queen  of  Castile,  must  be  satisfied  of  the  justice 
of  all  our  actions." 

"And  should  it  be  proved  that  thy  throne  or  life  were 
endangered,  and  that  magic  was  exercised  to  entrap  her  royal 
son  into  a  passion  for  a  Jewish  maiden  which  the  Church 
holds  a  crime  worthy  of  excommunication  itself,  —  surely, 
instead  of  counteracting,  she  would  assist  our  schemes." 

"Holy  friend,"  said  Ferdinand,  with  energy,  "ever  a  com- 
forter both  for  this  world  and  the  next,  to  thee  and  to  the 
new  powers  intrusted  to  thee  we  commit  this  charge,  —  see  to 
it  at  once :  time  presses ;  Granada  is  obstinate ;  the  treasury 
waxes  low." 

"Son,  thou  hast  said  enough,"  replied  the  Dominican, 
closing  his  eyes  and  muttering  a  short  thanksgiving.  "Now 
then  to  my  task." 


74  LEILA. 

"Yet  stay,"  said  the  king,  with  an  altered  visage,  "follow 
me  to  my  oratory  within.  My  heart  is  heavy,  and  I  would 
fain  seek  the  solace  of  the  confessional." 

The  monk  obeyed ;  and  while  Ferdinand,  whose  wonderful 
abilities  were  mingled  with  the  weakest  superstition,  who 
persecuted  from  policy,  yet  believed,  in  his  own  heart,  that 
he  punished  but  from  piety,  confessed  with  penitent  tears  the 
grave  offences  of  aves  forgotten  and  beads  untold,  and  while 
the  Dominican  admonished,  rebuked,  or  soothed,  —  neither 
prince  nor  monk  ever  dreamed  that  there  was  an  error  to  con- 
fess in,  or  a  penance  to  be  adjudged  to,  the  cruelty  that  tor- 
tured a  fellow-being,  or  the  avarice  that  sought  pretences  for 
the  extortion  of  a  whole  people. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

THE   TRIBUNAL   AND   THE   MIRACLE. 

It  was  the  dead  of  night,  the  army  was  hushed  in  sleep, 
when  four  soldiers  belonging  to  the  Holy  Brotherhood,  bear- 
ing with  them  one  whose  manacles  proclaimed  him  a  prisoner, 
passed  in  steady  silence  to  a  huge  tent  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  royal  pavilion.  A  deep  dike,  formidable  barricadoes, 
and  sentries  stationed  at  frequent  intervals,  testified  the  esti- 
mation in  which  the  safety  of  this  segment  of  the  camp  was 
held.  The  tent  to  which  the  soldiers  approached  was  in 
extent  larger  than  even  the  king's  pavilion  itself,  —  a  man- 
sion of  canvas,  surrounded  by  a  wide  wall  of  massive  stones ; 
and  from  its  summit  gloomed,  in  the  clear  and  shining  star- 
light, a  small  black  pennant,  on  which  was  wrought  a  white 
broad-pointed  cross.  The  soldiers  halted  at  the  gate  in  the 
wall,  resigned  their  charge,  with  a  whispered  watchword,  to 
two  gaunt  sentries ;  and  then  (relieving  the  sentries,  who  pro- 
ceeded on  with  the  prisoner)  remained,  mute  and  motionless, 
at  the  post :  for  stern  silence  and  Spartan  discipline  were  the 
attributes  of  the  brotherhood  of  St.  Hermandad. 


LEILA.  75 

The  prisoner,  as  he  now  neared  the  tent,  halted  a  moment, 
looked  round  steadily,  as  if  to  fix  the  spot  in  his  remem- 
brance, and  then,  with  an  impatient  though  stately  gesture, 
followed  his  guards.  He  passed  two  divisions  of  the  tent, 
dimly  lighted,  and  apparently  deserted.  A  man  clad  in  long 
black  robes,  with  a  white  cross  on  his  breast,  now  appeared ; 
there  was  an  interchange  of  signals  in  dumb-show,  and  in 
another  moment  Almamen  the  Hebrew  stood  within  a  large 
chamber  (if  so  that  division  of  the  tent  might  be  called) 
hung  with  black  serge.  At  the  upper  part  of  the  space  was 
an  estradoj  or  platform,  on  which,  by  a  long  table,  sat  three 
men,  while  at  the  head  of  the  board  was  seen  the  calm  and 
rigid  countenance  of  Tomas  de  Torquemada.  The  threshold 
of  the  tent  was  guarded  by  two  men  in  garments  similar  in 
hue  and  fashion  to  those  of  the  figure  who  had  ushered  Alma- 
men into  the  presence  of  the  inquisitor,  each  bearing  a  long 
lance,  and  with  a  long  two-edged  sword  by  his  side.  This 
made  all  the  inhabitants  of  that  melancholy  and  ominous 
apartment. 

The  Israelite  looked  round  with  a  pale  brow,  but  a  flashing 
and  scornful  eye ;  and  when  he  met  the  gaze  of  the  Domini- 
can, it  almost  seemed  as  if  those  two  men,  each  so  raised 
above  his  fellows  by  the  sternness  of  his  nature  and  the 
energy  of  his  passions,  sought  by  a  look  alone  to  assert  his 
own  supremacy  and  crush  his  foe.  Yet  in  truth  neither  did 
justice  to  the  other,  and  the  indignant  disdain  of  Almamen 
was  retorted  by  the  cold  and  icy  contempt  of  the  Dominican. 

"Prisoner,"  said  Torquemada  (the  first  to  withdraw  his 
gaze),  "a  less  haughty  and  stubborn  demeanour  might  have 
better  suited  thy  condition.  But  no  matter;  our  Church  is 
meek  and  humble.  We  have  sent  for  thee  in  a  charitable 
and  paternal  hope ;  for  although  as  spy  and  traitor  thy  life  is 
already  forfeited,  yet  would  we  fain  redeem  and  spare  it  to 
repentance.  That  hope  mayst  thou  not  forego,  for  the  nature 
of  all  of  us  is  weak  and  clings  to  life,  —  that  straw  of  the 
drowning  seaman." 

"Priest,  if  such  thou  art,"  replied  the  Hebrew,  "I  have 
already,  when  first  brought  to  this  camp,  explained  the  causes 


76  LEILA. 

of  my  detention  amongst  the  troops  of  the  Moor.  It  was  my 
zeal  for  the  king  of  Spain  that  brought  me  into  that  peril. 
Escaping  from  that  peril,  incurred  in  his  behalf,  is  the  king 
of  Spain  to  be  my  accuser  and  my  judge?  If,  however,  my 
life  now  be  sought  as  the  grateful  return  for  the  proffer  of 
inestimable  service,  I  stand  here  to  yield  it.  Do  thy  worst ; 
and  tell  thy  master  that  he  loses  more  by  my  death  than  he 
can  win  by  the  lives  of  thirty  thousand  warriors." 

"Cease  this  idle  babble,"  said  the  monk-inquisitor,  con- 
temptuously, "nor  think  thou  couldst  ever  deceive,  with  thy 
empty  words,  the  mighty  intellect  of  Ferdinand  of  Spain. 
Thou  hast  now  to  defend  thyself  against  still  graver  charges 
than  those  of  treachery  to  the  king  whom  thou  didst  profess 
to  serve.  Yea,  misbeliever  as  thou  art,  it  is  thine  to  vindi- 
cate thyself  from  blasphemy  against  the  God  thou  shouldst 
adore.  Confess  the  truth :  thou  art  of  the  tribe  and  faith  of 
Israel?" 

The  Hebrew  frowned  darkly.  "Man,"  said  he,  solemnly, 
"  is  a  judge  of  the  deeds  of  men,  but  not  of  their  opinions.  I 
will  not  answer  thee." 

"  Pause !  We  have  means  at  hand  that  the  strongest  nerves 
and  the  stoutest  hearts  have  failed  to  encounter.  Pause,  — 
confess ! " 

"Thy  threat  awes  me  not,"  said  the  Hebrew,  "but  I  am 
human;  and  since  thou  wouldst  know  the  truth,  thou  mayst 
learn  it  without  the  torture.  I  am  of  the  same  race  as  the 
apostles  of  thy  Church,  — I  am  a  Jew." 

"He  confesses, — write  down  the  words.  Prisoner,  thou 
hast  done  wisely;  and  we  pray  the  Lord  that,  acting  thus, 
thou  mayst  escape  both  the  torture  and  the  death.  And  in 
that  faith  thy  daughter  was  reared?    Answer." 

"My  daughter!  there  is  no  charge  against  her!  By  the 
God  of  Sinai  and  Horeb,  you  dare  not  touch  a  hair  of  that 
innocent  head ! " 

"Answer,"  repeated  the  inquisitor,  coldly. 

"I  do  answer.  She  was  brought  up  no  renegade  to  her 
father's  faith." 

"Write    down    the  confession.      Prisoner,"   resumed  the 


LEILA.  77 

Dominican,  after  a  pause,  "but  few  more  questions  remain; 
answer  them  truly,  and  thy  life  is  saved.  In  thy  conspiracy 
to  raise  thy  brotherhood  of  Andalusia  to  power  and  influence, 
or,  as  thou  didst  craftily  term  it,  to  equal  laws  with  the  fol- 
lowers of  our  blessed  Lord,  —  in  thy  conspiracy  (by  what  dark 
arts  I  seek  not  now  to  know ;  protege  nos,  beate  Domine  !)  to 
entangle  in  wanton  affections  to  thy  daughter  the  heart  of  the 
Infant  of  Spain,  —  silence,  I  say ;  be  still !  —  in  this  conspi- 
racy, thou  wert  aided,  abetted,  or  instigated  by  certain  Jews 
of  Andalusia  —  " 

"Hold,  priest!"  cried  Almamen,  impetuously;  "thou  didst 
name  my  child.  Do  I  hear  aright?  Placed  under  the  sacred 
charge  of  a  king  and  a  belted  knight,  has  she  —  oh,  answer 
me,  I  implore  thee  —  been  insulted  by  the  licentious  addresses 
of  one  of  that  king's  own  lineage?  Answer  I  I  am  a  Jew, 
but  I  am  a  father  and  a  man." 

"  This  pretended  passion  deceives  us  not, "  said  the  Domin- 
ican, who,  himself  cut  off  from  the  ties  of  life,  knew  nothing 
of  their  power.  "Eeply  to  the  question  put  to  thee:  name 
thy  accomplices." 

"I  have  told  thee  all.  Thou  hast  refused  to  answer  me. 
I  scorn  and  defy  thee;  my  lips  are  closed." 

The  Grand  Inquisitor  glanced  to  his  brethren  and  raised  his 
hand.  His  assistants  whispered  each  other ;  one  of  them  rose, 
and  disappeared  behind  the  canvas  at  the  back  of  the  tent. 
Presently  the  hangings  were  withdrawn,  and  the  prisoner 
beheld  an  interior  chamber,  hung  with  various  instruments 
the  nature  of  which  was  betrayed  by  their  very  shape ;  while 
by  the  rack,  placed  in  the  centre  of  that  dreary  chamber, 
stood  a  tall  and  grisly  figure,  his  arms  bare,  his  eyes  bent  as 
by  an  instinct  on  the  prisoner. 

Almamen  gazad  at  these  dread  preparations  with  an  un- 
flinching aspect.  The  guards  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent 
approached;  they  struck  off  the  fetters  from  his  feet  and 
hands ;  they  led  him  towards  the  appointed  place  of  torture. 

Suddenly  the  Israelite  paused. 

"Priest,"  said  he,  in  a  more  humble  accent  than  he  had  yet 
assumed,  "the  tidings  that  thou  didst  communicate  to  me 


78  LEILA. 

respecting  the  sole  daughter  of  my  house  and  love  bewildered 
and  confused  me  for  the  moment.  Suffer  me  but  for  a  single 
moment  to  re-collect  my  senses,  and  I  will  answer  without 
compulsion  all  thou  mayst  ask.  Permit  thy  questions  to  be 
repeated." 

The  Dominican,  whose  cruelty  to  others  seemed  to  himself 
sanctioned  by  his  own  insensibility  to  fear  and  contempt  for 
bodily  pain,  smiled  with  bitter  scorn  at  the  apparent  vacilla- 
tion and  weakness  of  the  prisoner;  but  as  he  delighted  not  in 
torture  merely  for  torture's  sake,  he  motioned  to  the  guards 
to  release  the  Israelite,  and  replied,  in  a  voice  unnaturally 
mild  and  kindly,  considering  the  circumstances  of  the 
scene,  — 

"Prisoner,  could  we  save  thee  from  pain,  even  by  the 
anguish  of  our  own  flesh  and  sinews.  Heaven  is  our  judge 
that  we  would  willingly  undergo  the  torture  which,  with  grief 
and  sorrow,  we  ordained  to  thee.  Pause,  take  breath,  collect 
thyself.  Three  minutes  shalt  thou  have  to  consider  what 
course  to  adopt  ere  we  repeat  the  question;  but  then  beware 
how  thou  triflest  with  our  indulgence." 

"  It  suffices,  I  thank  thee, "  said  the  Hebrew,  with  a  touch 
of  gratitude  in  his  voice.  As  he  spoke,  he  bent  his  face 
within  his  bosom,  which  he  covered,  as  in  profound  medita- 
tion, with  the  folds  of  his  long  robe.  Scarce  half  the  brief 
time  allowed  him  had  expired,  when  he  again  lifted  his  coun- 
tenance, and  as  he  did  so,  flung  back  his  garment.  The 
Dominican  uttered  a  loud  cry;  the  guards  started  back  in 
awe.  A  wonderful  change  had  come  over  the  intended  vic- 
tim :  he  seemed  to  stand  amongst  them  literally  wrapped  in 
fire ;  flames  burst  from  his  lip  and  played  with  his  long  locks, 
as,  catching  the  glowing  hue,  they  curled  over  his  shoulders 
like  serpents  of  burning  light;  blood-red  were  his  breast  and 
limbs,  his  haughty  crest,  and  his  outstretched  arm;  and  as 
for  a  single  moment  he  met  the  shuddering  eyes  of  his  judges, 
he  seemed,  indeed,  to  verify  all  the  superstitions  of  the  time, 
—  no  longer  the  trembling  captive,  but  the  mighty  demon  or 
the  terrible  magician. 

The  Dominican  was  the  first  to  recover  his  self-possession. 


LEILA.  79 

"  Seize  the  enchanter ! "  he  exclaimed ;  but  no  man  stirred. 
Ere  yet  the  exclamation  had  died  on  his  lip,  Almamen  took 
from  his  breast  a  phial  and  dashed  it  on  the  ground,  —  it 
broke  into  a  thousand  shivers;  a  mist  rose  over  the  apart- 
ment; it  spread,  thickened,  darkened,  as  a  sudden  night;  the 
lamps  could  not  pierce  it.  The  luminous  form  of  the  Hebrew 
grew  dull  and  dim,  until  it  vanished  in  the  shade.  On  every 
eye  blindness  seemed  to  fall.  There  was  a  dead  silence, 
broken  by  a  cry  and  a  groan ;  and  when,  after  some  minutes, 
the  darkness  gradually  dispersed,  Almamen  was  gone.  One 
of  the  guards  lay  bathed  in  blood  upon  the  ground ;  they  raised 
him:  he  had  attempted  to  seize  the  prisoner,  and  had  been 
stricken  with  a  mortal  wound.  He  died  as  he  faltered  forth 
the  explanation.  In  the  confusion  and  dismay  of  the  scene, 
none  noticed,  till  long  afterwards,  that  the  prisoner  had 
paused  long  enough  to  strip  the  dying  guard  of  his  long 
mantle,  —  a  proof  that  he  feared  his  more  secret  arts  might 
not  suffice  to  bear  him  safe  through  the  camp  without  the  aid 
of  worldly  stratagem. 

"The  fiend  hath  been  amongst  us," 'said  the  Dominican, 
solemnly  falling  on  his  knees ;  "  let  us  pray !  " 


BOOK    III. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

ISABEL    AND   THE   JEWISH   MAIDEN. 

While  this  scene  took  place  before  the  tribunal  of  Torque - 
mada,  Leila  had  been  summoned  from  the  indulgence  of  fears, 
which  her  gentle  nature  and  her  luxurious  nurturing  had  ill 
fitted  her  to  contend  against,  to  the  presence  of  the  queen. 
That  gifted  and  high-spirited  princess,  whose  virtues  were 
her  own,  whose  faults  were  of  her  age,  was  not,  it  is  true, 
without  the  superstition  and  something  of  the  intolerant 
spirit  of  her  royal  spouse ;  but  even  where  her  faith  assented 
to  persecution,  her  heart  ever  inclined  to  mercy,  and  it  was 
her  voice  alone  that  ever  counteracted  the  fiery  zeal  of 
Torquemada,  and  mitigated  the  sufferings  of  the  unhappy 
ones  who  fell  under  the  suspicion  of  heresy.  She  had,  hap- 
pily, too,  within  her  a  strong  sense  of  justice,  as  well  as  the 
sentiment  of  compassion  j  and  often,  when  she  could  not  save 
the  accused,  she  prevented  the  consequences  of  his  imputed 
crime  falling  upon  the  innocent  members  of  his  house  or 
tribe. 

In  the  interval  between  his  conversation  with  Ferdinand 
and  the  examination  of  Almamen,  the  Dominican  had  sought 
the  queen,  and  had  placed  before  her  in  glowing  colours,  not 
only  the  treason  of  Almamen,  but  the  consequences  of  the 
impious  passion  her  son  had  conceived  for  Leila.  In  that 
day,  any  connection  between  a  Christian  knight  and  a  Jewess 
was  deemed  a  sin  scarce  expiable;  and  Isabel  conceived  all 
that  horror  of  her  son's  offence  which  was  natural  in  a  pious 
mother  and  a  haughty  queen.  But  despite  all  the  arguments 
of  the  friar,  she  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  render  up 


LEILA.  81 

Leila  to  the  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition ;  and  that  dread  court, 
but  newly  established,  did  not  dare,  without  her  consent,  to 
seize  upon  one  under  the  immediate  protection  of  the  queen. 

"Fear  not,  father,"  said  Isabel,  with  quiet  firmness,  "I 
will  take  upon  myself  to  examine  the  maiden;  and  at  least 
I  will  see  her  removed  from  all  chance  of  tempting  or  being 
tempted  by  this  graceless  boy.  But  she  was  placed  under 
the  charge  of  the  king  and  myself  as  a  hostage  and  a  trust ; 
we  accepted  the  charge,  and  our  royal  honour  is  pledged  to 
the  safety  of  the  maiden.  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  deny 
the  existence  of  sorcery,  assured  as  we  are  of  its  emanation 
from  the  Evil  One;  but  I  fear,  in  this  fancy  of  Juan's,  that 
the  maiden  is  more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  And  yet 
my  son  is  doubtless  not  aware  of  the  unhappy  faith  of  the 
Jewess,  the  knowledge  of  which  alone  will  suffice  to  cure  him 
of  his  error.  You  shake  your  head,  father;  but,  I  repeat,  I 
will  act  in  this  affair  so  as  to  merit  the  confidence  I  demand. 
Go,  good  Tomas.  We  have  not  reigned  so  long  without  belief 
in  our  power  to  control  and  deal  with  a  simple  maiden." 

The  queen  extended  her  hand  to  the  monk  with  a  smile  so 
sweet  in  its  dignity  that  it  softened  even  that  rugged  heart; 
and  with  a  reluctant  sigh  and  a  murmured  prayer  that  her 
counsels  might  be  guided  for  the  best,  Torquemada  left  the 
royal  presence. 

"  The  poor  child !  "  thought  Isabel ;  "  those  tender  limbs 
and  that  fragile  form  are  ill  fitted  for  yon  monk's  stern  tute- 
lage. She  seems  gentle,  and  her  face  has  in  it  all  the  yield- 
ing softness  of  our  sex.  Doubtless  by  mild  means  she  may 
be  persuaded  to  abjure  her  wretched  creed;  and  the  shade  of 
some  holy  convent  may  hide  her  alike  from  the  licentious 
gaze  of  my  son  and  the  iron  zeal  of  the  Inquisitor.  I  will 
see  her." 

When  Leila  entered  the  queen's  pavilion,  Isabel,  who  was 
alone,  marked  her  trembling  step  with  a  compassionate  eye ; 
and  as  Leila,  in  obedience  to  the  queen's  request,  threw  up  her 
veil,  the  paleness  of  her  cheek  and  the  traces  of  recent  tears 
appealed  to  Isabel's  heart  with  more  success  than  had  at- 
tended all  the  pious  invectives  of  Torquemada. 


82  LEILA. 

"Maiden,"  said  Isabel,  encouragingly,  "I  fear  thou  hast 
been  strangely  harassed  by  the  thoughtless  caprice  of  the 
young  prince.  Think  of  it  no  more.  But  if  thou  art  what 
I  have  ventured  to  believe  and  to  assert  thee  to  be,  cheer- 
fully subscribe  to  the  means  I  will  suggest  for  preventing 
the  continuance  of  addresses  which  cannot  but  injure  thy  fair 
name." 

"Ah,  madam!"  said  Leila,  as  she  fell  on  one  knee  beside 
the  queen,  "  most  joyfully,  most  gratefully,  will  I  accept  any 
asylum  which  proffers  solitude  and  peace." 

"The  asylum  to  which  I  would  fain  lead  thy  steps," 
answered  Isabel,  gently,  "is  indeed  one  whose  solitude  is 
holy,  whose  peace  is  that  of  Heaven.  But  of  this  hereafter. 
Thou  wilt  not  hesitate,  then,  to  quit  the  camp,  unknown  to 
the  prince,  and  ere  he  can  again  seek  thee?" 

"Hesitate,  madam?  Ah!  rather,  how  shall  I  express  my 
thanks?" 

"I  did  not  read  that  face  misjudgingly,"  thought  the  queen 
as  she  resumed.  "Be  it  so;  we  will  not  lose  another  night. 
Withdraw  yonder,  through  the  inner  tent;  the  litter  shall  be 
straight  prepared  for  thee,  and  ere  midnight  thou  shalt  sleep 
in  safety  under  the  roof  of  one  of  the  bravest  knights  and 
noblest  ladies  that  our  realm  can  boast.  Thou  shalt  bear 
with  thee  a  letter  that  shall  commend  thee  specially  to  the 
care  of  thy  hostess ;  thou  wilt  find  her  of  a  kindly  and  foster- 
ing nature.  And  oh,  maiden !  "  added  the  queen,  with  benev- 
olent warmth,  "steel  not  thy  heart  against  her,  listen  with 
ductile  senses  to  her  gentle  ministry.  And  may  God  and  His 
Son  prosper  that  pious  lady's  counsel,  so  that  it  may  win  a 
new  stray  ling  to  the  Immortal  Fold!  " 

Leila  listened  and  wondered,  but  made  no  answer,  until,  as 
she  gained  the  entrance  to  the  interior  division  of  the  tent, 
she  stopped  abruptly,  and  said,  — 

"Pardon  me,  gracious  queen,  but  dare  I  ask  thee  one 
question?    It  is  not  of  myself." 

"Speak,  and  fear  not." 

"My  father,  hath  aught  been  heard  of  him?  He  promised 
that  ere  the  fifth  day  were  past  he  would  once  more  see  his 


LEILA.  83 

child ;  and  alas !  that  date  is  past,  and  I  am  still  alone  in  the 
dwelling  of  the  stranger." 

"Unhappy  child,"  muttered  Isabel  to  herself,  "thou  know- 
est  not  his  treason  nor  his  fate.  Yet  why  shouldst  thou? 
Ignorant  of  what  would  render  thee  blest  hereafter,  continue 
ignorant  of  what  would  afflict  thee  here.  Be  cheered,  maiden," 
answered  the  queen,  aloud.  "  No  doubt  there  are  reasons  suffi- 
cient to  forbid  your  meeting.  But  thou  shalt  not  lack  friends 
in  the  dwelling-house  of  the  stranger." 

"  Ah,  noble  queen,  pardon  me,  and  one  word  more.  There 
hath  been  with  me,  more  than  once,  a  stern  old  man,  whose 
voice  freezes  the  blood  within  my  veins ;  he  questions  me  of 
my  father,  and  in  the  tone  of  a  foe  who  would  entrap  from 
the  child  something  to  the  peril  of  the  sire.  That  man,  — 
thou  knowest  him,  gracious  queen,  —  he  cannot  have  the 
power  to  harm  my  father?" 

"Peace,  maiden!  The  man  thou  speakest  of  is  the  priest 
of  God,  and  the  innocent  have  nothing  to  dread  from  his 
reverend  zeal.  For  thyself,  I  say  again,  be  cheered;  in  the 
home  to  which  I  consign  thee  thou  wilt  see  him  no  more. 
Take  comfort,  poor  child;  weep  not.  All  have  their  cares; 
our  duty  is  to  bear  in  this  life,  reserving  hope  only  for  the 
next." 

The  queen,  destined  herself  to  those  domestic  afflictions 
which  pomp  cannot  soothe,  nor  power  allay,  spoke  with  a 
prophetic  sadness  which  yet  more  touched  a  heart  that  her 
kindness  of  look  and  tone  had  already  softened;  a,nd  in  the 
impulse  of  a  nature  never  tutored  in  the  rigid  ceremonials  of 
that  stately  court,  Leila  suddenly  came  forward,  and  falling 
on  one  knee,  seized  the  hand  of  her  protectress  and  kissed  it 
warmly  through  her  tears. 

"Are  you,  too,  unhappy?"  she  said.  "I  will  pray  for  you 
to  m^/ God!" 

The  queen,  surprised  and  moved  at  an  action  which,  had 
witnesses  been  present,  would  only  perhaps  (for  such  is  human 
nature)  have  offended  her  Castilian  prejudices,  left  her  hand 
in  Leila's  grateful  clasp;  and  laying  the  other  upon  the 
parted  and  luxuriant  ringlets  of  the  kneeling  maiden,   said 


84  LEILA. 

gently:  "And  thy  prayers  shall  avail  thee  and  me  when  thy 
God  and  mine  are  the  same.  Bless  thee,  maiden!  I  am  a 
mother;  thou  art  motherless,  — bless  thee! '' 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  TEMPTATION  OF  THE  JEWESS. IN  WHICH  THE   HISTORY 

PASSES    FKOM    THE    OUTWARD   TO    THE   INTERNAL. 

It  was  about  the  very  hour,  almost  the  very  moment,  in 
which  Almamen  effected  his  mysterious  escape  from  the  tent 
of  the  Inquisition  that  the  train  accompanying  the  litter 
which  bore  Leila,  and  which  was  composed  of  some  chosen  sol- 
diers of  Isabel's  own  body-guard,  after  traversing  the  camp, 
winding  along  that  part  of  the  mountainous  defile  which  was 
in  the  possession  of  the  Spaniards,  and  ascending  a  high  and 
steep  acclivity,  halted  before  the  gates  of  a  strongly  fortified 
castle,  renowned  in  the  chronicles  of  that  memorable  war. 
The  hoarse  challenge  of  the  sentry,  the  grating  of  jealous 
bars,  the  clanks  of  hoofs  upon  the  rough  pavement  of  the 
courts,  and  the  streaming  glare  of  torches,  —  falling  upon 
stern  and  bearded  visages,  and  imparting  a  ruddier  glow  to 
the  moonlit  buttresses  and  battlements  of  the  fortress,  — 
aroused  Leila  from  a  kind  of  torpor  rather  than  sleep,  in 
which  the  fatigue  and  excitement  of  the  day  had  steeped  her 
senses.  An  old  seneschal  conducted  her  through  vast  and 
gloomy  halls  (how  unlike  the  brilliant  chambers  and  fantastic 
arcades  of  her  Moorish  home!)  to  a  huge  Gothic  apartment, 
hung  with  the  arras  of  Flemish  looms.  In  a  few  moments 
maidens,  hastily  aroused  from  slumber,  grouped  around  her 
with  a  respect  which  would  certainly  not  have  been  accorded 
had  her  birth  and  creed  been  known.  They  gazed  with  sur- 
prise at  her  extraordinary  beauty  and  foreign  garb,  and  evi- 
dently considered  the  new  guest  a  welcome  addition  to  the 
scanty  society  of  the  castle.     Under  any  other  circumstances, 


LEILA.  85 

the  strangeness  of  all  she  saw,  and  the  frowning  gloom  of  the 
chamber  to  which  she  was  consigned,  would  have  damped  the 
spirits  of  one  whose  destiny  had  so  suddenly  passed  from 
the  deepest  quiet  into  the  sternest  excitement.  But  any 
change  was  a  relief  to  the  roar  of  the  camp,  the  addresses 
of  the  prince,  and  the  ominous  voice  and  countenance  of 
Torquemada;  and  Leila  looked  around  her  with  the  feeling 
that  the  queen's  promise  was  fulfilled,  and  that  she  was 
already  amidst  the  blessings  of  shelter  and  repose.  It  was 
long,  however,  before  sleep  revisited  her  eyelids,  and  when 
she  woke,  the  noonday  sun  streamed  broadly  through  the  lat- 
tice. By  the  bedside  sat  a  matron  advanced  in  years,  but  of 
a  mild  and  prepossessing  countenance,  which  only  borrowed  a 
yet  more  attractive  charm  from  an  expression  of  placid  and 
habitual  melancholy.  She  was  robed  in  black;  but  the  rich 
pearls  that  were  interwoven  in  the  sleeves  and  stomacher,  the 
jewelled  cross  that  was  appended  from  a  chain  of  massive 
gold,  and,  still  more,  a  certain  air  of  dignity  and  command, 
bespoke,  even  to  the  inexperienced  eye  of  Leila,  the  evidence 
of  superior  station. 

"Thou  hast  slept  late,  daughter,"  said  the  lady,  with  a 
benevolent  smile;  "may  thy  slumbers  have  refreshed  thee! 
Accept  my  regrets  that  I  knew  not  till  this  morning  of  thine 
arrival,  or  I  should  have  been  the  first  to  welcome  the  charge 
of  my  royal  mistress." 

There  was  in  the  look,  much  more  than  in  the  words  of  the 
Donna  Inez  de  Quexada,  a  soothing  and  tender  interest  that 
was  as  balm  to  the  heart  of  Leila;  in  truth,  she  had  been 
made  the  guest  of  perhaps  the  only  lady  in  Spain,  of  pure  and 
Christian  blood,  who  did  not  despise  or  execrate  the  name  of 
Leila's  tribe.  Donna  Inez  had  herself  contracted  to  a  Jew  a 
debt  of  gratitude  which  she  had  sought  to  return  to  the  whole 
race.  Many  years  before  the  time  in  which  our  tale  is  cast, 
her  husband  and  herself  had  been  sojourning  at  Naples,  then 
closely  connected  with  the  politics  of  Spain,  upon  an  impor- 
tant State  mission.  They  had  then  an  only  son,  a  youth  of  a 
wild  and  desultory  character,  whom  the  spirit  of  adventure 
allured  to  the  East.     In  one  of  those  sultry  lands  the  young 


86  LEILA. 

Quexada  was  saved  from  the  hands  of  robbers  by  the  caravan- 
serai of  a  wealthy  traveller.  With  this  stranger  he  contracted 
that  intimacy  which  wandering  and  romantic  men  often  con- 
ceive for  each  other,  without  any  other  sympathy  than  that 
of  the  same  pursuits.  Subsequently,  he  discovered  that  his 
companion  was  of  the  Jewish  faith,  and  with  the  usual  preju- 
dice of  his  birth  and  time,  recoiled  from  the  friendship  he  had 
solicited,  and  shrank  from  the  sense  of  the  obligation  he 
had  incurred :  he  quitted  his  companion.  Wearied,  at  length, 
with  travel,  he  was  journeying  homeward  when  he  was  seized 
with  a  sudden  and  virulent  fever,  mistaken  for  plague;  all 
fled  from  the  contagion  of  the  supposed  pestilence,  — he  was 
left  to  die.  One  man  discovered  his  condition, — watched, 
tended,  and,  skilled  in  the  deeper  secrets  of  the  healing  art, 
restored  him  to  life  and  health:  it  was  the  same  Jew  who 
had  preserved  him  from  the  robbers.  At  this  second  and 
more  inestimable  obligation  the  prejudices  of  the  Spaniard 
vanished;  he  formed  a  deep  and  grateful  attachment  for  his 
preserver.  They  lived  together  for  some  time,  and  the  Israel- 
ite finally  accompanied  the  young  Quexada  to  Naples.  Inez 
retained  a  lively  sense  of  the  service  rendered  to  her  only  son, 
and  the  impression  had  been  increased,  not  only  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  Israelite,  which,  dignified  and  stately,  bore 
no  likeness  to  the  cringing  servility  of  his  brethren,  but  also 
by  the  singular  beauty  and  gentle  deportment  of  his  then 
newly  wed  bride,  whom  he  had  wooed  and  won  in  that  holy 
land  sacred  equally  to  the  faith  of  Christian  and  of  Jew. 
The  young  Quexada  did  not  long  survive  his  return ;  his  con- 
stitution was  broken  by  long  travel  and  the  debility  that  fol- 
lowed his  fierce  disease.  On  his  deathbed  he  had  besought 
the  mother  whom  he  left  childless,  and  whose  Catholic  preju- 
dices were  less  stubborn  than  those  of  his  sire,  never  to  forget 
the  services  a  Jew  had  conferred  upon  him,  to  make  the  sole 
recompense  in  her  power,  — the  sole  recompense  the  Jew  him- 
self had  demanded,  —  and  to  lose  no  occasion  to  soothe  or 
mitigate  the  miseries  to  which  the  bigotry  of  the  time  often 
exposed  the  oppressed  race  of  his  deliverer.  Donna  Inez  had 
faithfully  kept  the  promise  she  gave  to  the  last  scion  of  her 


LEILA.  87 

house,  and  through  the  power  and  reputation  of  her  husband 
and  her  own  connections,  and  still  more  through  an  early 
friendship  with  the  queen,  she  had,  on  her  return  to  Spain, 
been  enabled  to  ward  oif  many  a  persecution,  and  many  a 
charge  on  false  pretences,  to  which  the  wealth  of  some  son  of 
Israel  made  the  cause,  while  his  faith  made  the  pretext.  Yet, 
with  all  the  natural  feelings  of  a  rigid  Catholic,  she  had  earn- 
estly sought  to  render  the  favour  she  had  thus  obtained 
amongst  the  Jews  minister  to  her  pious  zeal  for  their  more 
than  temporal  welfare.  She  had  endeavoured  by  gentle 
means  to  make  the  conversions  which  force  was  impotent 
to  etf ect ;  and  in  some  instances  her  success  had  been  signal. 
The  good  senora  had  thus  obtained  high  renown  for  sanctity ; 
and  Isabel  thought  rightly  that  she  could  not  select  a  protec- 
tress tor  Leila  who  would  more  kindly  shelter  her  youth,  or 
more  strenuously  labour  for  her  salvation.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
dangerous  situation  for  the  adherence  of  the  maiden  to  that 
faith  which  it  had  cost  her  fiery  father  so  many  sacrifices  to 
preserve  and  to  advance. 

It  was  by  little  and  little  that  Donna  Inez  sought  rather  to 
undermine  than  to  storm  the  mental  fortress  she  hoped  to 
man  with  spiritual  allies;  and  in  her  frequent  conversations 
with  Leila  she  was  at  once  perplexed  and  astonished  by  the 
simple  and  sublime  nature  of  the  belief  upon  which  she  waged 
war.  For  whether  it  was  that,  in  his  desire  to  preserve  Leila 
as  much  as  possible  from  contact  even  with  Jews  themselves, 
whose  general  character  (vitiated  by  the  oppression  which 
engendered  meanness,  and  the  extortion  which  fostered  ava- 
rice) Almamen  regarded  with  lofty  though  concealed  repug- 
nance, or  whether  it  was  that  his  philosophy  did  not  interpret 
the  Jewish  formula  of  belief  in  the  same  spirit  as  the  herd, 
—  the  religion  inculcated  in  the  breast  of  Leila  was  different 
from  that  which  Inez  had  ever  before  encountered  amongst 
her  proselytes.  It  was  less  mundane  and  material,  —  a  kind 
of  passionate  rather  than  metaphysical  theism,  which  invested 
the  great  One,  indeed,  with  many  human  sympathies  and 
attributes,  but  still  left  Him  the  august  and  awful  God  of  the 
Genesis,  the  Father  of  a  Universe,  though  the  individual 


88  LEILA. 

Protectcr  of  a  fallen  sect.  Her  attention  had  been  less 
directed  to  whatever  appears,  to  a  superficial  gaze,  stern  and 
inexorable  in  the  character  of  the  Hebrew  God,  and  which  the 
religion  of  Christ  so  beautifully  softened  and  so  majestically 
refined,  than  to  those  passages  in  which  His  love  watched 
over  a  chosen  people,  and  His  forbearance  bore  with  their 
transgressions.  Her  reason  had  been  worked  upon  to  its 
belief  by  that  mysterious  and  solemn  agency  by  which  — 
when  the  whole  world  beside  was  bowed  to  the  worship  of 
innumerable  deities  and  the  adoration  of  graven  images  —  in 
a  small  and  secluded  portion  of  earth,  amongst  a  people  far 
less  civilized  and  philosophical  than  many  by  which  they 
were  surrounded,  had  been  alone  preserved  a  pure  and  sub- 
lime theism,  disdaining  a  likeness  in  the  things  of  heaven 
or  earth.  Leila  knew  little  of  the  more  narrow  and  exclusive 
tenets  of  her  brethren;  a  Jewess  in  name,  she  was  rather  a 
deist  in  belief,  —  a  deist  of  such  a  creed  as  Athenian  schools 
might  have  taught  to  the  imaginative  pupils  of  Plato,  save 
only  that  too  dark  a  shadow  had  been  cast  over  the  hopes  of 
another  world.  Without  the  absolute  denial  of  the  Sadducee, 
Almamen  had  probably  much  of  the  quiet  scepticism  which 
belonged  to  many  sects  of  the  early  Jews,  and  which  still 
clings  round  the  wisdom  of  the  wisest  who  reject  the  doc- 
trine of  Kevelation;  and  while  he  had  not  sought  to  eradicate 
from  the  breast  of  his  daughter  any  of  the  vague  desire  which 
points  to  a  Hereafter,  he  had  never,  at  least,  directed  her 
thoughts  or  aspirations  to  that  solemn  future.  Nor  in  the 
sacred  book  which  was  given  to  her  survey,  and  which  so 
rigidly  upheld  the  unity  of  the  Supreme  Power,  was  there 
that  positive  and  unequivocal  assurance  of  life  beyond  "the 
grave  where  all  things  are  forgotten  "  that  might  supply  the 
deficiencies  of  her  mortal  instructor.  Perhaps,  sharing  those 
notions  of  the  different  value  of  the  sexes,  prevalent,  from  the 
remotest  period,  in  his  beloved  and  ancestral  East,  Almamen 
might  have  hopes  for  himself  which  did  not  extend  to  his 
child.  And  thus  she  grew  up,  with  all  the  beautiful  faculties 
of  the  soul  cherished  and  unfolded,  without  thought,  without 
more  than   dim   and  shadowy  conjectures,    of    the   Eternal 


LEILA.  89 

Bourn  to  which  the  sorrowing  pilgrim  of  the  earth  is 
bound.  It  was  on  this  point  that  the  quick  eye  of  Donna 
Inez  discovered  her  faith  was  vulnerable :  who  would  not,  if 
belief  were  voluntary,  believe  in  the  world  to  come?  Leila's 
curiosity  and  interest  were  aroused;  she  willingly  listened  to 
her  new  guide,  she  willingly  inclined  to  conclusions  pressed 
upon  her,  not  with  menace,  but  persuasion.  Free  from  the 
stubborn  associations,  the  sectarian  prejudices,  and  unversed 
in  the  peculiar  traditions  and  accounts  of  the  learned  of  her 
race,  she  found  nothing  to  shock  her  in  the  volume  which 
seemed  but  a  continuation  of  the  elder  writings  of  her  faith. 
The  sufferings  of  the  Messiah,  His  sublime  purity.  His  meek 
forgiveness,  spoke  to  her  woman's  heart;  His  doctrines  ele- 
vated, while  they  charmed,  her  reason;  and  in  the  heaven 
that  a  Divine  hand  opened  to  all,  —  the  humble  as  the  proud, 
the  oppressed  as  the  oppressor,  to  the  woman  as  to  the  lords 
of  the  earth,  —  she  found  a  haven  for  all  the  doubts  she  had 
known,  and  for  the  despair  which  of  late  had  darkened  the 
face  of  earth.  Her  home  lost,  the  deep  and  beautiful  love  of 
her  youth  blighted,  — that  was  a  creed  almost  irresistible 
which  told  her  that  grief  was  but  for  a  day,  that  happiness 
was  eternal.  Far,  too,  from  revolting  such  of  the  Hebrew 
pride  of  association  as  she  had  formed,  the  birth  of  the 
Messiah  in  the  land  of  the  Israelites  seemed  to  consummate 
their  peculiar  triumjjh  as  the  Elected  of  Jehovah.  And  while 
she  mourned  for  the  Jews  who  persecuted  the  Saviour,  she 
gloried  in  those  whose  belief  had  carried  the  name  and  wor- 
ship of  the  descendants  of  David  over  the  farthest  regions  of 
the  world.  Often  she  perplexed  and  startled  the  worthy  Inez 
by  exclaiming,  "  This  your  belief  is  the  same  as  mine,  adding 
only  the  assurance  of  immortal  life :  Christianity  is  but  the 
Revelation  of  Judaism." 

The  wise  and  gentle  instrument  of  Leila's  conversion  did 
not,  however,  give  vent  to  those  more  Catholic  sentiments 
which  might  have  scared  away  the  wings  of  the  descending 
dove.  She  forbore  too  vehemently  to  point  out  the  distinc- 
tions of  the  several  creeds,  and  rather  suffered  them  to  melt 
insensibly  one  into  the  other:   Leila  was  a  Christian  while 


90  LEILA. 

she  still  believed  herself  a  Jewess.  But  in  the  fond  and 
lovely  weakness  of  mortal  emotions,  there  was  one  bitter 
thought  that  often  and  often  came  to  mar  the  peace  that 
otherwise  would  have  settled  on  her  soul.  That  father,  the 
sole  softener  of  whose  stern  heart  and  mysterious  fate  she 
was,  with  what  pangs  would  he  receive  the  news  of  her  con- 
version! And  Muza,  that  bright  and  hero-vision  of  her  youth, 
—  was  she  not  setting  the  last  seal  of  separation  upon  all  hope 
of  union  with  the  idol  of  the  Moors?  But  alas!  was  she  not 
already  separated  from  him,  and  had  not  their  faiths  been 
from  the  first  at  variance?  From  these  thoughts  she  started 
with  sighs  and  tears ;  and  before  her  stood  the  crucifix  already 
admitted  into  her  chamber,  and  —  not,  perhaps,  too  wisely  — 
banished  so  rigidly  from  the  oratories  of  the  Huguenot.  For 
the  representation  of  that  Divine  resignation,  that  mortal 
agony,  that  miraculous  sacrifice,  what  eloquence  it  hath  for 
our  sorrows!  What  preaching  hath  the  symbol  to  the  van- 
ities of  our  wishes,  to  the  yearnings  of  our  discontent! 

By  degrees,  as  her  new  faith  grew  confirmed,  Leila  now 
inclined  herself  earnestly  to  those  pictures  of  the  sanctity 
and  calm  of  the  conventual  life  which  Inez  delighted  to  draw. 
In  the  reaction  of  her  thoughts,  and  her  despondency  of  all 
worldly  happiness,  there  seemed  to  the  young  maiden  an  inex- 
pressible charm  in  a  solitude  which  was  to  release  her  forever 
from  human  love,  and  render  her  entirely  up  to  sacred  visions 
and  imperishable  hopes.  And  with  this  selfish,  there  mingled 
a  generous  and  sublime  sentiment.  The  prayers  of  a  convent 
might  be  heard  in  favour  of  those  yet  benighted,  and  the 
awful  curse  upon  her  outcast  race  be  lightened  by  the  orisons 
of  one  humble  heart.  In  all  ages,  in  all  creeds,  a  strange  and 
mystic  impression  has  existed  of  the  efficacy  of  self-sacrifice 
in  working  the  redemption  even  of  a  whole  people ;  this  belief, 
so  strong  in  the  old  Orient  and  classic  religions,  was  yet  more 
confirmed  by  Christianity,  —  a  creed  founded  upon  the  grand- 
est of  historic  sacrifices,  and  the  lofty  doctrine  of  which, 
rightly  understood,  perpetuates  in  the  heart  of  every  believer 
the  duty  of  self-immolation,  as  well  as  faith  in  the  power  of 
prayer,  no  matter  how  great  the  object,  how  mean  the  sup- 


LEILA.  91 

plicator.  On  these  thoughts  Leila  meditated  till  thoughts 
acquired  the  intensity  of  passions,  and  the  conversion  of  the 
Jewess  was  completed. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   HOUR  AND    THE    MAN. 

It  was  on  the  third  morning  after  the  king  of  Granada, 
reconciled  to  his  people,  had  reviewed  his  gallant  army  in  the 
Vivarrambla,  and  Boabdil,  surrounded  by  his  chiefs  and  nobles, 
was  planning  a  deliberate  and  decisive  battle,  by  assault  on 
the  Christian  camp,  when  a  scout  suddenly  arrived,  breath- 
less, at  the  gates  of  the  palace,  to  communicate  the  unlooked- 
for  and  welcome  intelligence  that  Ferdinand  had  in  the  night 
broken  up  his  camp  and  marched  across  the  mountains  towards 
Cordova.  In  fact,  the  outbreak  of  formidable  conspiracies  had 
suddenly  rendered  the  appearance  of  Ferdinand  necessary  else- 
where; and  his  intrigues  with  Almamen  frustrated,  he  de- 
spaired of  a  very  speedy  conquest  of  the  city.  The  Spanish 
king  resolved,  therefore,  after  completing  the  devastation  of 
the  Vega,  to  defer  the  formal  and  prolonged  siege,  which 
could  alone  place  Granada  within  his  power,  until  his  atten- 
tion was  no  longer  distracted  by  other  foes,  and  until,  it  must 
be  added,  he  had  replenished  an  exhausted  treasury.  He  had 
formed,  with  Torquemada,  a  vast  and  wide  scheme  of  perse- 
cution, not  only  against  Jews,  but  against  Christians  whose 
fathers  had  been  of  that  race,  and  who  were  suspected  of 
relapsing  into  Judaical  practices.  The  two  schemers  of  this 
grand  design  were  actuated  by  different  motives:  the  one 
wished  to  exterminate  the  crime,  the  other  to  sell  forgive- 
ness for  it.  And  Torquemada  connived  at  the  griping  avarice 
of  the  king  because  it  served  to  give  to  himself  and  to  the 
infant  Inquisition  a  power  and  authority  which  the  Dominican 
foresaw  would  be  soon  greater  even  than  those  of  royalty  itself, 


92  LEILA. 

and  which,  he  imagined,  by  scourging  earth,  would  redound  to 
the  interests  of  heaven. 

The  strange  disappearance  of  Almamen,  which  was  dis- 
torted and  exaggerated  by  the  credulity  of  the  Spaniards  into 
an  event  of  the  most  terrific  character,  served  to  complete  the 
chain  of  evidence  against  the  wealthy  Jews  and  Jew-descended 
Spaniards  of  Andalusia;  and  while,  in  imagination,  the  king 
already  clutched  the  gold  of  their  redemption  here,  the  Domin- 
ican kindled  the  flame  that  was  to  light  them  to  punishment 
hereafter. 

Boabdil  and  his  chiefs  received  the  intelligence  of  the 
Spanish  retreat  with  a  doubt  which  soon  yielded  to  the  most 
triumphant  delight.  Boabdil  at  once  resumed  all  the  energy 
for  which,  though  but  by  fits  and  starts,  his  earlier  youth  had 
been  remarkable. 

"  Allah  Achbar !  God  is  great !  "  cried  he ;  "  we  will  not 
remain  here  till  it  suit  the  foe  to  confine  the  eagle  again  to 
his  eyry.  They  have  left  us,  —  we  will  burst  on  them. 
Summon  our  alfaquis;  we  will  proclaim  a  holy  war!  The 
sovereign  of  the  last  possessions  of  the  Moors  is  in  the  field. 
Not  a  town  that  contains  a  Moslem  but  shall  receive  our  sum- 
mons, and  we  will  gather  round  our  standard  all  the  children 
of  our  faith !  " 

"May  the  king  live  forever!"  cried  the  council,  with  one 
voice. 

"Lose  not  a  moment,"  resumed  Boabdil;  "on  to  the  Vivar- 
rambla,  marshal  the  troops,  —  Muza  heads  the  cavalry,  myself 
our  foot.  Ere  the  sun's  shadow  reach  yonder  forest,  our  army 
shall  be  on  its  march." 

The  warriors,  hastily  and  in  joy,  left  the  palace ;  and  when 
he  was  alone,  Boabdil  again  relapsed  into  his  wonted  irreso- 
lution. After  striding  to  and  fro  for  some  minutes  in  anxious 
thought,  he  abruptly  quitted  the  hall  of  council,  and  passed 
into  the  more  private  chambers  of  the  palace,  till  he  came  to 
a  door  strongly  guarded  by  plates  of  iron.  It  yielded  easily, 
however,  to  a  small  key  which  he  carried  in  his  girdle,  and 
Boabdil  stood  in  a  small  circular  room,  apparently  without 
other  door  or  outlet;  but  after  looking  cautiously  round,  the 


LEILA.  93 

king  touched  a  secret  spring  in  the  wall,  which,  giving  way, 
discovered  a  niche,  in  which  stood  a  small  lamp  burning  with 
the  purest  naphtha,  and  a  scroll  of  yellow  parchment  covered 
with  strange  letters  and  hieroglyphics.  He  thrust  the  scroll 
in  his  bosom,  took  the  lamp  in  his  hand,  and  pressing  another 
spring  within  the  niche,  the  wall  receded,  and  showed  a  nar- 
row and  winding  staircase.  The  king  reclosed  the  entrance 
and  descended;  the  stairs  led  at  last  into  damp  and  rough 
passages,  and  the  murmur  of  waters,  that  reached  his  ear 
through  the  thick  walls,  indicated  the  subterranean  nature  of 
the  soil  through  which  they  were  hewn.  The  lamp  burned 
clear  and  steady  through  the  darkness  of  the  place,  and  Boab- 
dil  proceeded  with  such  impatient  rapidity  that  the  distance 
(in  reality  considerable)  which  he  traversed  before  he  arrived 
at  his  destined  bourn  was  quickly  measured.  He  came  at 
last  into  a  wide  cavern,  guarded  by  doors  concealed  and 
secret  as  those  which  had  screened  the  entrance  from  the 
upper  air.  He  was  in  one  of  the  many  vaults  which  made 
the  mighty  cemetery  of  the  monarchs  of  Granada ;  and  before 
him  stood  the  robed  and  crowned  skeleton,  and  before  him 
glowed  the  magic  dial-plate  of  which  he  had  spoken  in  his 
interview  with  Muza. 

"0  dread  and  awful  image!"  cried  the  king,  throwing 
himself  on  his  knees  before  the  skeleton,  —  "  shadow  of  what 
was  once  a  king  wise  in  council  and  terrible  in  war,  if  in 
those  hollow  bones  yet  lurks  the  impalpable  and  unseen 
spirit,  hear  thy  repentant  son.  Forgive,  while  it  is  yet  time, 
the  rebellion  of  his  fiery  youth,  and  suffer  thy  daring  soul  to 
animate  the  doubt  and  weakness  of  his  own.  I  go  forth 
to  battle,  waiting  not  the  signal  thou  didst  ordain.  Let  not 
the  penance  for  a  rashness  to  which  fate  urges  me  on  attach 
to  my  country,  but  to  me.  And  if  I  perish  in  the  field,  may 
my  evil  destinies  be  buried  with  me,  and  a  worthier  monarch 
redeem  my  errors  and  preserve  Granada ! " 

As  the  king  raised  his  looks,  the  unrelaxed  grin  of  the 
grim  dead,  made  yet  more  hideous  by  the  mockery  of  the 
diadem  and  the  royal  robe,  froze  back  to  ice  the  passion  and 
sorrow  at  his  heart.     He  shuddered,  and  rose  with  a  deep 


94  LEILA. 

sigh ;  when,  as  his  eyes  mechanically  followed  the  lifted  arm 
of  the  skeleton,  he  beheld,  with  mingled  delight  and  awe,  the 
hitherto  motionless  finger  of  the  dial-plate  pass  slowly  on, 
and  rest  at  the  word  so  long  and  so  impatiently  desired. 
"Arm!"  cried  the  kingj  "do  I  read  aright, — are  my 
prayers  heard?"  A  low  and  deep  sound,  like  that  of  sub- 
terranean thunder,  boomed  through  the  chamber ;  and  in  the 
same  instant  the  wall  opened,  and  the  king  beheld  the  long- 
expected  figure  of  Almamen  the  magician.  But  no  longer 
was  that  stately  form  clad  in  the  loose  and  peaceful  garb  of 
the  Eastern  santon.  Complete  armour  cased  his  broad  chest 
and  sinewy  limbs;  his  head  alone  was  bare,  and  his  promi- 
nent and  impressive  features  were  lighted,  not  with  mystical 
enthusiasm,  but  with  warlike  energy.  In  his  right  hand  he 
carried  a  drawn  sword;  his  left  supported  the  staff  of  a  snow- 
white  and  dazzling  banner. 

So  sudden  was  the  apparition,  and  so  excited  the  mind  of 
the  king,  that  the  sight  of  a  supernatural  being  could  scarcely 
have  impressed  him  with  more  amaze  and  awe. 

"King  of  Granada,"  said  Almamen,  "the  hour  hath  come 
at  last ;  go  forth  and  conquer !  With  the  Christian  monarch 
there  is  no  hope  of  peace  or  compact.  At  thy  request  I 
sought  him,  but  my  spells  alone  preserved  the  life  of  thy 
herald.  Kejoice!  for  thine  evil  destinies  have  rolled  away 
from  thy  spirit,  like  a  cloud  from  the  glory  of  the  sun.  The 
genii  of  the  East  have  woven  this  banner  from  the  rays  of 
benignant  stars.  It  shall  beam  before  thee  in  the  front  of 
battle,  —  it  shall  rise  over  the  rivers  of  Christian  blood.  As 
the  moon  sways  the  bosom  of  the  tides,  it  shall  sway  and 
direct  the  surges  and  the  course  of  war !  " 

"  Man  of  mystery,  thou  hast  given  me  a  new  life !  " 

"And,  fighting  by  thy  side,"  resumed  Almamen,  "I  will 
assist  to  carve  out  for  thee,  from  the  ruins  of  Arragon  and 
Castile,  the  grandeur  of  a  new  throne.  Arm,  monarch  of 
Granada,  arm!  I  hear  the  neigh  of  thy  charger  in  the  midst 
of  the  mailed  thousands.     Arm!  " 


BOOK   IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 

LEILA   IN   THE   CASTLE.  —  THE   SIEGE. 

The  calmer  contemplations  and  more  lioly  anxieties  of 
Leila  were  at  length  broken  in  upon  by  intelligence,  the 
fearful  interest  of  which  absorbed  the  whole  mind  and  care 
of  every  inhabitant  of  the  castle.  Boabdil  el  Chico  had  taken 
the  field,  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  army.  Rapidly  scouring 
the  country,  he  had  descended,  one  after  one,  upon  the  prin- 
cipal fortresses,  which  Ferdinand  had  left,  strongly  garrisoned, 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood.  His  success  was  as  immedi- 
ate as  it  was  signal ;  the  terror  of  his  arms  began  once  more 
to  spread  far  and  wide;  every  day  swelled  his  ranks  with  new 
recruits;  and  from  the  snow-clad  summits  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  poured  down,  in  wild  hordes,  the  fierce  mountain 
race,  who,  accustomed  to  eternal  winter,  made  a  strange  con- 
trast, in  their  rugged  appearance  and  shaggy  clothing,  to  the 
glittering  and  civilized  soldiery  of  Granada. 

Moorish  towns,  which  had  submitted  to  Ferdinand,  broke 
from  their  allegiance,  and  sent  their  ardent  youth  and  experi- 
enced veterans  to  the  standard  of  the  Keys  and  Crescent.  To 
add  to  the  sudden  panic  of  the  Spaniards,  it  went  forth  that  a 
formidable  magician,  who  seemed  inspired  rather  with  the 
fury  of  a  demon  than  the  valour  of  a  man,  had  made  an 
abrupt  appearance  in  the  ranks  of  the  Moslems.  Wherever 
the  Moors  shrank  back  from  wall  or  tower,  down  which 
poured  the  boiling  pitch,  or  rolled  the  deadly  artillery  of  the 
besieged,  this  sorcerer  —  rushing  into  the  midst  of  the  flag- 
ging force,  and  waving,  with  wild  gestures,  a  white  banner, 
supposed  by  both  Moor  and  Christian  to  be  the  work  of  magic 
and  preternatural  spells  —  dared  every  danger  and  escaped 


96  LEILA. 

every  weapon;  with  voice,  with  prayer,  with  example,  he 
fired  the  Moors  to  an  enthusiasm  that  revived  the  first  days 
of  Mohammedan  conquest;  and  tower  after  tower,  along  the 
mighty  range  of  the  mountain-chain  of  fortresses,  was  pol- 
luted by  the  wave  and  glitter  of  the  ever-victorious  banner. 
The  veteran  Mendo  de  Quexada,  who  with  a  garrison  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  men  held  the  castle  of  Alhendin,  was,  how- 
ever, undaunted  by  the  unprecedented  successes  of  Boabdil. 
Aware  of  the  approaching  storm,  he  spent  the  days  of  peace 
yet  accorded  to  him  in  making  every  preparation  for  the  siege 
that  he  foresaw:  messengers  were  despatched  to  Ferdinand; 
new  outworks  were  added  to  the  castle;  ample  store  of  pro- 
visions was  laid  in ;  and  no  precaution  omitted  that  could  still 
preserve  to  the  Spaniards  a  fortress  that,  from  its  vicinity  to 
Granada,  its  command  of  the  Vega  and  the  valleys  of  the 
Alpuxarras,  was  the  bitterest  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  Moorish 
power. 

It  was  early  one  morning  that  Leila  stood  by  the  lattice  of 
her  lofty  chamber,  gazing,  with  many  and  mingled  emotions, 
on  the  distant  domes  of  Granada  as  they  slept  in  the  silent 
sunshine.  Her  heart  for  the  moment  was  busy  with  the 
thoughts  of  home,  and  the  chances  and  peril  of  the  time  were 
forgotten. 

The  sound  of  martial  music  afar  off  broke  upon  her  reveries; 
she  started,  and  listened  breathlessly :  it  became  more  distinct 
and  clear.  The  clash  of  the  zell,  the  boom  of  the  African 
drum,  and  the  wild  and  barbarous  blast  of  the  Moorish  clarion 
were  now  each  distinguishable  from  the  other ;  and  at  length, 
as  she  gazed  and  listened,  winding  along  the  steeps  of  the 
mountain  were  seen  the  gleaming  spears  and  pennants  of  the 
Moslem  vanguard.  Another  moment,  and  the  whole  castle 
was  astir. 

Mendo  de  Quexada,  hastily  arming,  repaired,  himself,  to 
the  battlements,  and  from  her  lattice  Leila  beheld  him,  from 
time  to  time,  stationing  to  the  best  advantage  his  scanty 
troops.  In  a  few  minutes  she  was  joined  by  Donna  Inez  and 
the  women  of  the  castle,  who  fearfully  clustered  round  their 
mistress,  —  not  the  less  disposed,  however,  to  gratify  the 


LEILA.  97 

passion  of  tlie  sex  by  a  glimpse  througli  the  lattice  at  the 
gorgeous  array  of  the  Moorish  army. 

The  casements  of  Leila's  chamber  were  peculiarly  adapted 
to  command  a  safe  nor  insufficient  view  of  the  progress  of  the 
enemy ;  and  with  a  beating  heart  and  flushing  cheek  the  Jew- 
ish maiden,  deaf  to  the  voices  around  her,  imagined  she  could 
already  descry  amidst  the  horsemen  the  lion  port  and  snowy 
garments  of  Muza  Ben  Abil  Gazan. 

What  a  situation  was  hers!  Already  a  Christian,  could 
she  hope  for  the  success  of  the  infidel?  Ever  a  woman,  could 
she  hope  for  the  defeat  of  her  lover?  But  the  time  for  medi- 
tation on  her  destiny  was  but  brief;  the  detachment  of  the 
Moorish  cavalry  was  now  just  without  the  walls  of  the  little 
town  that  girded  the  castle,  and  the  loud  clarion  of  the  heralds 
summoned  the  garrison  to  surrender. 

"  Not  while  one  stone  stands  upon  another !  "  was  the  short 
answer  of  Quexada;  and  in  ten  minutes  afterwards  the  sullen 
roar  of  the  artillery  broke  from  wall  and  tower  over  the  vales 
below. 

It  was  then  that  the  women,  from  Leila's  lattice,  beheld, 
slowly  marshalling  themselves  in  order,  the  whole  power  and 
pageantry  of  the  besieging  army.  Thick,  serried,  —  line  after 
line,  column  upon  column,  —  they  spread  below  the  frowning 
steep.  The  sunbeams  lighted  up  that  goodly  array  as  it 
swayed  and  murmured  and  advanced,  like  the  billows  of  a 
glittering  sea.  The  royal  standard  was  soon  descried  waving 
above  the  pavilion  of  Boabdil;  and  the  king  himself,  mounted 
on  his  cream-coloured  charger,  which  was  covered  with  trap- 
pings of  cloth-of-gold,  was  recognized  amongst  the  infantry, 
whose  task  it  was  to  lead  the  assault. 

"  Pray  with  us,  my  daughter ! "  cried  Inez,  falling  on  her 
knees.     Alas!  what  could  Leila  pray  for? 

Four  days  and  four  nights  passed  away  in  that  memorable 
siege ;  for  the  moon,  then  at  her  full,  allowed  no  respite  even 
in  night  itself.  Their  numbers  and  their  vicinity  to  Granada 
gave  the  besiegers  the  advantage  of  constant  relays,  and  troop 
succeeded  to  troop,  so  that  the  weary  had  ever  successors  in 
the  vigour  of  new  assailants. 

7 


98  LEILA. 

On  tlie  fifth  day  all  of  the  fortress,  save  the  keep  (an 
immense  tower),  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Moslems ;  and  in  this 
last  hold,  the  worn-out  and  scanty  remnant  of  the  garrison 
mustered,  in  the  last  hope  of  a  brave  despair. 

Quexada  appeared,  covered  with  gore  and  dust,  —  his  eyes 
bloodshot,  his  cheek  haggard  and  hollow,  his  locks  blanched 
with  sudden  age,  —  in  the  hall  of  the  tower  where  the  women, 
half  dead  with  terror,  were  assembled. 

"Food! "  cried  he,  — '^food  and  wine!  It  may  be  our  last 
banquet.'' 

His  wife  threw  her  arms  round  him.  "Not  yet,"  he  cried, 
"not  yet;  we  will  have  one  embrace  before  we  part." 

"Is  there,  then,  no  hope?"  said  Inez,  with  a  pale  cheek, 
yet  steady  eye. 

"None,  unless  to-morrow's  dawn  gild  the  spears  of  Ferdi- 
nand's army  upon  yonder  hills.  Till  morn  we  may  hold  out." 
As  he  spoke,  he  hastily  devoured  some  morsels  of  food,  drained 
a  huge  goblet  of  wine,  and  abruptly  quitted  the  chamber. 

At  that  moment  the  women  distinctly  heard  the  loud  shouts 
of  the  Moors;  and  Leila,  approaching  the  grated  casement, 
could  perceive  the  approach  of  what  seemed  to  her  like  mov- 
ing walls. 

Covered  by  ingenious  constructions  of  wood  and  thick 
hides,  the  besiegers  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the  tower  in 
comparative  shelter  from  the  burning  streams  which  still 
poured,  fast  and  seething,  from  the  battlements ;  while  in  the 
rear  came  showers  of  darts  and  cross-bolts  from  the  more  dis- 
tant Moors,  protecting  the  work  of  the  engineer,  and  piercing 
through  almost  every  loophole  and  crevice  in  the  fortress. 

Meanwhile  the  stalwart  governor  beheld  with  dismay  and 
despair  the  preparations  of  the  engineers,  whom  the  wooden 
screen-works  protected  from  every  weapon. 

"By  the  Holy  Sepulchre,"  cried  he,  gnashing  his  teeth, "they 
are  mining  the  tower,  and  we  shall  be  buried  in  its  ruins! 
Look  out,  Gonsalvo;  see  you  not  a  gleam  of  spears  yonder, 
over  the  mountain?    Mine  eyes  are  dim  with  watching." 

"Alas!  brave  Mendo,  it  is  only  the  sloping  sun  upon  the 
snows;  but  there  is  hope  yet." 


LEILA.  99 

The  soldier's  words  terminated  in  a  shrill  and  sudden  cry 
of  agony ;  and  he  fell  dead  by  the  side  of  Quexada,  the  brain 
crushed  by  a  bolt  from  a  Moorish  arquebus. 

"  My  best  warrior !  "  said  Quexada ;  "  peace  be  with  him ! 
Ho,  there!  See  you  yon  desperate  infidel  urging  on  the 
miners?  By  the  heavens  above,  it  is  he  of  the  white  banner; 
it  is  the  sorcerer!  Fire  on  him!  he  is  without  the  shelter  of 
the  woodworks." 

Twenty  shafts,  from  wearied  and  nerveless  arms,  fell  innoc- 
uous round  the  form  of  Almamen;  and  as,  waving  aloft  his 
ominous  banner,  he  disappeared  again  behind  the  screen- 
works,  the  Spaniards  almost  fancied  they  could  hear  his 
exulting  and  demon  laugh. 

The  sixth  day  came,  and  the  work  of  the  enemy  was 
completed.  The  tower  was  entirely  undermined;  the  foun- 
dations rested  only  upon  wooden  props,  which,  with  a  human- 
ity that  was  characteristic  of  Boabdil,  had  been  placed  there, 
in  order  that  the  besieged  might  escape  ere  the  final  crash  of 
their  last  hold. 

It  was  now  noon;  the  whole  Moorish  force,  quitting  the 
plain,  occupied  the  steep  that  spread  below  the  tower,  in 
multitudinous  array  and  breathless  expectation.  The  miners 
stood  aloof;  the  Spaniards  lay  prostrate  and  exhausted  upon 
the  battlements,  like  mariners  who,  after  every  effort  against 
the  storm,  await,  resigned  and  almost  indifferent,  the  sweep 
of  the  fatal  surge. 

Suddenly  the  lines  of  the  Moors  gave  way,  and  Boabdil 
himself,  with  Muza  at  his  right  hand,  and  Almamen  on  his 
left,  advanced  towards  the  foot  of  the  tower.  At  the  same 
time  the  Ethiopian  guards,  each  bearing  a  torch,  marched 
slowly  in  the  rear,  and  from  the  midst  of  them  paced  the 
royal  herald  and  sounded  the  last  warning.  The  hush  of 
the  immense  armament;  the  glare  of  the  torches,  lighting 
the  ebon  faces  and  giant  forms  of  their  bearers ;  the  majestic 
appearance  of  the  king  himself;  the  heroic  aspect  of  Muza; 
the  bare  head  and  glittering  banner  of  Almamen,  —  all  com- 
bined with  the  circumstances  of  the  time  to  invest  the  specta- 
cle with  something  singularly  awful,  and  perhaps  sublime. 


100  LEILA. 

Quexada  turned  his  eyes  mutely  round  tlie  ghastly  faces  of 
his  warriors,  and  still  made  not  the  signal.  His  lips  mut- 
tered, his  eyes  glared,  when  suddenly  he  heard  below  the  wail 
of  women;  and  the  thought  of  Inez,  the  bride  of  his  youth, 
the  partner  of  his  age,  came  upon  him,  and  with  a  trembling 
hand  he  lowered  the  yet  unquailing  standard  of  Spain.  Then 
the  silence  below  broke  into  a  mighty  shout,  which  shook  the 
grim  tower  to  its  unsteady  and  temporary  base. 

"Arise,  my  friends,"  he  said,  with  a  bitter  sigh;  "we  have 
fought  like  men,  and  our  country  will  not  blush  for  us." 

He  descended  the  winding  stairs ;  his  soldiers  followed  him 
with  faltering  steps;  the  gates  of  the  keep  unfolded;  and 
these  gallant  Christians  surrendered  themselves  to  the  Moor. 

"Do  with  us  as  you  will,"  said  Quexada,  as  he  laid  the 
keys  at  the  hoofs  of  BoabdiPs  barb;  "but  there  are  women 
in  the  garrison,  who  —  " 

"Are  sacred,"  interrupted  the  king.  "At  once  we  accord 
their  liberty,  and  free  transport  whithersoever  ye  would  de- 
sire. Speak,  then:  to  what  place  of  safety  shall  they  be 
conducted?" 

"Generous  king!"  replied  the  veteran  Quexada,  brushing 
away  his  tears  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  "you  take  the  sting 
from  our  shame.  We  accept  your  offer  in  the  same  spirit  in 
which  it  is  made.  Across  the  mountains,  on  the  verge  of  the 
plain  of  Olfadez,  I  possess  a  small  castle,  ungarrisoned  and 
unfortified.  Thence,  should  the  war  take  that  direction,  the 
women  can  readily  obtain  safe-conduct  to  the  queen  at 
Cordova." 

"Be  it  so,"  returned  Boabdil.  Then,  with  Oriental  deli- 
cacy, selecting  the  eldest  of  the  oiRcers  round  him,  he  gave 
him  instructions  to  enter  the  castle,  and  with  a  strong  guard 
provide  for  the  safety  of  the  women,  according  to  the  direc- 
tions of  Quexada.  To  another  of  his  officers  he  confided  the 
Spanish  prisoners,  and  gave  the  signal  to  his  army  to  with- 
draw from  the  spot,  leaving  only  a  small  body  to  complete  the 
ruin  of  the  fortress. 

Accompanied  by  Almamen  and  his  principal  officers,  Boabdil 
now  hastened  towards  Granada;  and  while,  with  slower  prog- 


LEILA.  101 

ress,  Quexada  and  his  companions,  under  a  strong  escort,  took 
their  way  across  the  Vega,  a  sudden  turn  in  their  course 
brought  abruptly  before  them  the  tower  they  had  so  valiantly 
defended.  There  it  still  stood,  proud  and  stern,  amidst  the 
blackened  and  broken  wrecks  around  it,  shooting  aloft,  dark 
and  grim,  against  the  sky.  Another  moment,  and  a  mighty 
crash  sounded  on  their  ears,  while  the  tower  fell  to  the  earth 
amidst  volumes  of  wreathing  smoke  and  showers  of  dust, 
which  were  borne  by  the  concussion  to  the  spot  on  which 
they  took  their  last  gaze  of  the  proudest  fortress  on  which  the 
Moors  of  Granada  had  beheld,  from  their  own  walls,  the  stan- 
dard of  Arragon  and  Castile. 

At  the  same  time  Leila,  —  thus  brought  so  strangely  within 
the  very  reach  of  her  father  and  her  lover,  and  yet  by  a  mys- 
terious fate  still  divided  from  both,  —  with  Donna  Inez  and 
the  rest  of  the  females  of  the  garrison,  pursued  her  melan- 
choly path  along  the  ridges  of  the  mountains. 


CHAPTEK  II. 

ALMAMEn's    proposed    enterprise.  THE   THREE   ISRAELITES. 

CIRCUMSTANCE      IMPRESSES      EACH      CHARACTER     WITH      A 

VARYING   DIE. 

BoABDiL  followed  up  his  late  success  with  a  series  of 
brilliant  assaults  on  the  neighbouring  fortresses.  Granada, 
like  a  strong  man  bowed  to  the  ground,  wrenched,  one  after 
one,  the  bands  that  had  crippled  her  liberty  and  strength; 
and  at  length,  after  regaining  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
surrounding  territory,  the  king  resolved  to  lay  siege  to  the 
sea-port  of  Salobrena.  Could  he  obtain  this  town,  Boabdil, 
by  establishing  communication  between  the  sea  and  Granada, 
would  both  be  enabled  to  avail  himself  of  the  assistance  of 
his  African  allies,  and  also  prevent  the  Spaniards  from  cut- 


102  LEILA. 

ting  off  supplies  to  the  city,  should  they  again  besiege  it. 
Thither,  then,  accompanied  by  Muza,  the  Moorish  king  bore 
his  victorious  standard. 

On  the  eve  of  his  departure  Almamen  sought  the  king's 
presence.  A  great  change  had  come  over  the  santon  since 
the  departure  of  Ferdinand,  —  his  wonted  stateliness  of  mien 
was  gone;  his  eyes  were  sunk  and  hollow;  his  manner,  dis- 
turbed and  absent.  In  fact,  his  love  for  his  daughter  made 
the  sole  softness  of  his  character ;  and  that  daughter  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  king  who  had  sentenced  the  father  to  the 
tortures  of  the  Inquisition !  To  what  dangers  might  she  not 
be  subjected  by  the  intolerant  zeal  of  conversion !  And  could 
that  frame  and  gentle  heart  brave  the  terrific  engines  that 
might  be  brought  against  her  fears?  "Better,"  thought  he, 
"  that  she  should  perish,  even  by  the  torture,  than  adopt  that 
hated  faith."  He  gnashed  his  teeth  in  agony  at  either  alter- 
native. His  dreams,  his  objects,  his  revenge,  his  ambition, — 
all  forsook  him;  one  single  hope,  one  thought,  completely 
mastered  his  stormy  passions  and  fitful  intellect. 

In  this  mood  the  pretended  santon  met  Boabdil.  He 
represented  to  the  king,  over  whom  his  influence  had  prodig- 
iously increased  since  the  late  victories  of  the  Moors,  the 
necessity  of  employing  the  armies  of  Ferdinand  at  a  distance. 
He  proposed,  in  furtherance  of  this  policy,  to  venture  himself 
in  Cordova,  to  endeavour  secretly  tp  stir  up  those  Moors  in 
that,  their  ancient  kingdom,  who  had  succumbed  to  the  Span- 
ish yoke,  and  whose  hopes  might  naturally  be  inflamed  by  the 
recent  successes  of  Boabdil,  and  at  least  to  foment  such  dis- 
turbances as  might  afford  the  king  sufficient  time  to  complete 
his  designs  and  recruit  his  force  by  aid  of  the  powers  with 
which  he  was  in  league. 

The  representations  of  Almamen  at  length  conquered 
Boabdil's  reluctance  to  part  with  his  sacred  guide,  and  it 
was  finally  arranged  that  the  Israelite  should  at  once  depart 
from  the  city. 

As  Almamen  pursued  homeward  his  solitary  way,  he  found 
himself  suddenly  accosted  in  the  Hebrew  tongue.  He  turned 
hastily,  and  saw  before  him  an  old  man  in  the  Jewish  gown. 


LEILA.  103 

He  recognized  Elias,  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  eminent 
of  the  race  of  Israel. 

"Pardon  me,  wise  countryman,"  said  the  Jew,  bowing  to 
the  earth,  "but  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  claiming 
kindred  with  one  through  whom  the  horn  of  Israel  may  be  so 
triumphantly  exalted." 

"  Hush,  man ! "  said  Almamen,  quickly,  and  looking 
sharply  round;  "I  thy  countryman!  Art  thou  not,  as  thy 
speech  betokens,  an  Israelite?" 

"Yea,"  returned  the  Jew,  "and  of  the  same  tribe  as  thy 
honoured  father,  peace  be  with  his  ashes !  I  remembered  thee 
at  once,  boy  though  thou  wert  when  thy  steps  shook  off  the 
dust  against  Granada.  I  remembered  thee,  I  say,  at  once,  on 
thy  return ;  but  I  have  kept  thy  secret,  trusting  that,  through 
thy  soul  and  genius,  thy  fallen  brethren  might  put  off  sack- 
cloth and  feast  upon  the  house-tops." 

Almamen  looked  hard  at  the  keen,  sharp  Arab  features  of 
the  Jew ;  and  at  length  he  answered,  "  And  how  can  Israel  be 
restored?    Wilt  thou  fight  for  her?  " 

"  I  am  too  old,  son  of  Issachar,  to  bear  arms ;  but  our  tribes 
are  many,  and  our  youth  strong.  Amid  these  disturbances 
between  dog  and  dog  —  " 

"The  lion  may  get  his  own,"  interrupted  Almamen, 
impetuously;  "let  us  hope  it.  Hast  thou  heard  of  the  new 
persecutions  against  us  that  the  false  Nazarene  king  has 
already  commenced  in  Cordova,  —  persecutions  that  make  the 
heart  sick  and  the  blood  cold?" 

"  Alas  I  "  replied  Elias,  "  such  woes  indeed  have  not  failed  to 
reach  mine  ear ;  and  I  have  kindred,  near  and  beloved  kindred, 
wealthy  and  honoured  men,  scattered  throughout  that  land." 

"  Were  it  not  better  that  they  should  die  on  the  field  than  by 
the  rack?  "  exclaimed  Almamen,  fiercely.  "  G-od  of  my  fathers ! 
if  there  be  yet  a  spark  of  manhood  left  amongst  thy  people,  let 
thy  servant  fan  it  to  a  flame  that  shall  burn  as  the  fire  burns 
the  stubble,  so  that  the  earth  may  bare  before  the  blaze! " 

"Nay,"  said  Elias,  dismayed  rather  than  excited  by  the 
vehemence  of  his  comrade,  "be  not  rash,  son  of  Issachar,  be 
not  rash;   perad venture  thou  wilt  but  exasperate  the  wrath 


104  LEILA. 

of  the  rulers,  and  our  substance  thereby  will  be  utterly 
consumed." 

Almamen  drew  back,  placed  his  hand  quietly  on  the  Jew's 
shoulder,  looked  him  hard  in  the  face,  and,  gently  laughing, 
turned  away. 

Elias  did  not  attempt  to  arrest  his  steps.  "  Impracticable," 
he  muttered  j  "  impracticable  and  dangerous !  I  always  thought 
so.  He  may  do  us  harm:  were  he  not  so  strong  and  fierce, 
I  would  put  my  knife  under  his  left  rib.  Verily,  gold  is 
a  great  thing;  and —  Out  on  me!  the  knaves  at  home  will 
be  wasting  the  oil,  now  they  know  old  Elias  is  abroad." 
Thereat  the  Jew  drew  his  cloak  around  him,  and  quickened 
his  pace. 

Almamen  in  the  mean  while  sought,  through  dark  and 
subterranean  passages  known  only  to  himself,  his  accustomed 
home.  He  passed  much  of  the  night  alone ;  but  ere  the  morn- 
ing star  announced  to  the  mountain-tops  the  presence  of  the 
sun,  he  stood,  prepared  for  his  journey,  in  his  secret  vault, 
by  the  door  of  the  subterranean  passages,  with  old  Ximen 
beside  him. 

"I  go,  Ximen,"  said  Almamen,  "upon  a  doubtful  quest. 
Whether  I  discover  my  daughter  and  succeed  in  bearing  her 
in  safety  from  their  contaminating  grasp,  or  whether  I  fall 
into  their  snares  and  perish,  there  is  an  equal  chance  that  I 
may  return  no  more  to  Granada.  Should  this  be  so,  you  will 
be  heir  to  such  wealth  as  I  leave  in  these  places :  I  know  that 
your  age  will  be  consoled  for  the  lack  of  children  when  your 
eyes  look  upon  the  laugh  of  gold." 

Ximen  bowed  low,  and  mumbled  out  some  inaudible  pro- 
testations and  thanks.  Almamen  sighed  heavily  as  he  looked 
round  the  room.  "  I  have  evil  omens  in  my  soul,  and  evil 
prophecies  in  my  books,"  said  he,  mournfully;  "but  the  worst 
is  here, "  he  added,  putting  his  finger  significantly  to  his  tem- 
ples.   " The.string  is  stretched;  one  more  blow  would  snap  it." 

As  he  thus  said,  he  opened  the  door  and  vanished  through 
that  labyrinth  of  galleries  by  which  he  was  enabled  at  all 
times  to  reach  unobserved  either  the  palace  of  the  Alhambra 
or  the  gardens  without  the  gates  of  the  city. 


LEILA.  105 

Ximen  remained  behind  a  few  moments  in  deep  thought. 
"All  mine  if  he  dies,"  said  he;  "all  mine  if  he  does  not 
return!  All  mine,  all  mine!  and  I  have  not  a  child  nor  a 
kinsman  in  the  world  to  clutch  it  away  from  me ! "  With  that 
he  locked  the  vault,  and  returned  to  the  upper  air. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   FUGITIVE   AND   THE   MEETING. 

In  their  different  directions  the  rival  kings  were  equally 
successful.  Salobrena,  but  lately  conquered  by  the  Christians, 
was  thrown  into  a  commotion  by  the  first  glimpse  of  BoabdiPs 
banners;  the  populace  rose,  beat  back  their  Christian  guards, 
and  opened  the  gates  to  the  last  of  their  race  of  kings.  The 
garrison  alone,  to  which  the  Spaniards  retreated,  resisted 
BoabdiPs  arms,  and,  defended  by  impregnable  walls,  prom- 
ised an  obstinate  and  bloody  siege. 

Meanwhile,  Ferdinand  had  no  sooner  entered  Cordova  than 
his  extensive  scheme  of  confiscation  and  holy  persecution  com- 
menced. Not  only  did  more  than  five  hundred  Jews  perish 
in  the  dark  and  secret  gripe  of  the  Grand  Inquisitor,  but 
several  hundred  of  the  wealthiest  Christian  families,  in  whose 
blood  was  detected  the  hereditary  Jewish  taint,  were  thrown 
into  prison;  and  such  as  were  most  fortunate  purchased  life 
by  the  sacrifice  of  half  their  treasures.  At  this  time,  however, 
there  suddenly  broke  forth  a  formidable  insurrection  amongst 
those  miserable  subjects,  —  the  Messenians  of  the  Iberian 
Sparta.  The  Jews  were  so  far  aroused  from  their  long 
debasement  by  omnipotent  despair  that  a  single  spark,  fall- 
ing on  the  ashes  of  their  ancient  spirit,  rekindled  the  flame 
of  the  descendants  of  the  fierce  warriors  of  Palestine.  They 
were  encouraged  and  assisted  by  the  suspected  Christians  who 
had  been  involved  in  the  same  persecution;  apd  the  whole 
was  headed  by  a  man  who  appeared  suddenly  amongst  them, 


106  LEILA. 

and  whose  fiery  eloquence  and  martial  spirit  produced,  at  such 
a  season,  the  most  fervent  enthusiasm.  Unhappily,  the  whole 
details  of  this  singular  outbreak  are  withheld  from  us;  only 
by  wary  hints  and  guarded  allusions  do  the  Spanish  chroni- 
clers apprise  us  of  its  existence  and  its  perils.  It  is  clear 
that  all  narrative  of  an  event  that  might  afford  the  most  dan- 
gerous precedent,  and  was  alarming  to  the  pride  and  avarice 
of  the  Spanish  king,  as  well  as  the  pious  zeal  of  the  Church, 
was  strictly  forbidden ;  and  the  conspiracy  was  hushed  in  the 
dread  silence  of  the  Inquisition,  into  whose  hands  the  princi- 
pal conspirators  ultimately  fell.  We  learn  only  that  a  deter- 
mined and  sanguinary  struggle  was  followed  by  the  triumph 
of  Ferdinand  and  the  complete  extinction  of  the  treason. 

It  was  one  evening  that  a  solitary  fugitive,  hard  chased  by 
an  armed  troop  of  the  brothers  of  St.  Hermandad,  was  seen 
emerging  from  a  wild  and  rocky  defile  which  opened  abruptly 
on  the  gardens  of  a  small  and,  by  the  absence  of  fortification 
and  sentries,  seemingly  deserted  castle.  Behind  him,  in  the 
exceeding  stillness  which  characterizes  the  air  of  a  Spanish 
twilight,  he  heard,  at  a  considerable  distance,  the  blast  of  the 
horn  and  the  tramp  of  hoofs.  His  pursuers,  divided  into  sev- 
eral detachments,  were  scouring  the  country  after  him,  as  the 
fishermen  draw  their  nets  from  bank  to  bank,  conscious  that 
the  prey  they  drive  before  the  meshes  cannot  escape  them  at 
the  last.  The  fugitive  halted  in  doubt,  and  gazed  round  him. 
He  was  wellnigh  exhausted;  his  eyes  were  blood-shot;  the 
large  drops  rolled  fast  down  his  brow;  his  whole  frame  quiv- 
ered and  palpitated  like  that  of  a  stag  when  he  stands  at  bay. 
Beyond  the  castle  spread  a  broad  plain  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  without  shrub  or  hollow  to  conceal  his  form;  flight 
across  a  space  so  favourable  to  his  pursuers  was  evidently  in 
vain.  No  alternative  was  left,  unless  he  turned  back  on  the 
very  path  taken  by  the  horsemen,  or  trusted  to  such  scanty 
and  perilous  shelter  as  the  copses  in  the  castle  garden  might 
afford  him.  He  decided  on  the  latter  refuge,  cleared  the  low 
and  lonely  wall  that  girded  the  demesne,  and  plunged  into  a 
thicket  of  overhanging  oaks  and  chestnuts. 

At  that  hour  and  in  that  garden,  by  the  side  of  a  little 


LEILA.  107 

fountain,  were  seated  two  females,  —  tlie  one  of  mature  and 
somewhat  advanced  years ;  the  other  in  the  flower  of  virgin 
youth.  But  the  flower  was  prematurely  faded;  and  neither 
the  bloom,  nor  sparkle,  nor  undulatiDg  play  of  feature  that 
should  have  suited  her  age  was  visible  in  the  marble  paleness 
and  contemplative  sadness  of  her  beautiful  countenance. 

"Alas!  my  young  friend,"  said  the  elder  of  these  ladies,  "it 
is  in  these  hours  of  solitude  and  calm  that  we  are  most  deeply 
impressed  with  the  nothingness  of  life.  Thou,  my  sweet  con- 
vert, art  now  the  object,  no  longer  of  my  compassion,  but  my 
envy ;  and  earnestly  do  I  feel  convinced  of  the  blessed  repose 
thy  spirit  will  enjoy  in  the  lap  of  the  Mother  Church.  Happy 
are  they  who  die  young,  but  thrice  happy  they  who  die  in  the 
spirit  rather  than  the  flesh,  —  dead  to  sin,  but  not  to  virtue ; 
to  terror,  not  to  hope ;  to  man,  but  not  to  God !  " 

"Dear  Senora,"  replied  the  young  maiden,  mournfully, 
"were  I  alone  on  earth.  Heaven  is  my  witness  with  what 
deep  and  thankful  resignation  I  should  take  the  holy  vows 
and  forswear  the  past ;  but  the  heart  remains  human,  however 
divine  the  hope  that  it  may  cherish.  And  sometimes  I  start, 
and  think  of  home,  of  childhood,  of  my  strange  but  beloved 
father,  deserted  and  childless  in  his  old  age." 

"Thine,  Leila,"  returned  the  elder  senora,  "are  but  the 
sorrows  our  nature  is  doomed  to.  What  matter,  whether 
absence  or  death  sever  the  affections?  Thou  lamentest  a 
father;  I,  a  son  dead  in  the  pride  of  his  youth  and  beauty, 
—  a  husband  languishing  in  the  fetters  of  the  Moor.  Take 
comfort  for  thy  sorrows  in  the  reflection  that  sorrow  is  the 
heritage  of  all." 

Ere  Leila  could  reply,  the  orange-boughs  that  sheltered  the 
spot  where  they  sat  were  put  aside,  and  between  the  women 
and  the  fountain  stood  the  dark  form  of  Almamen  the  Israel- 
ite. Leila  rose,  shrieked,  and  flung  herself,  unconscious,  on 
his  breast. 

"  0  Lord  of  Israel ! "  cried  Almamen,  in  a  tone  of  deep 
anguish,  "do  I  then  at  last  regain  my  child?  Do  I  press  her 
to  my  heart?  And  is  it  only  for  that  brief  moment,  when  I 
stand  upon  the  brink  of  death?    Leila,  my  child,  look  up,  — 


108  LEILA. 

smile  upon  thy  father;  let  him  feel,  on  his  maddening  and 
burning  brow,  the  sweet  breath  of  the  last  of  his  race,  and 
bear  with  him  at  least  one  holy  and  gentle  thought  to  the 
dark  grave." 

"My  father,  is  it  indeed  my  father?"  said  Leila,  recovering 
herself,  and  drawing  back,  that  she  might  assure  herself  of 
that  familiar  face.  "  It  is  thou !  it  is,  it  is !  Oh,  what  blessed 
chance  brings  us  together?" 

"That  chance  is  the  destiny  that  hurries  me  to  my  tomb," 
answered  Almamen,  solemnly.  "Hark!  hear  you  not  the 
sound  of  their  rushing  steeds,  their  impatient  voices?  They 
are  on  me  now !  " 

"Who?    Of  whom  speakest  thou?" 

"My  pursuers,  — the  horsemen  of  the  Spaniard." 

"Oh,  Seiiora,  save  him!"  cried  Leila,  turning  to  Donna 
Inez,  whom  both  father  and  child  had  hitherto  forgotten,  and 
who  now  stood  gazing  upon  Almamen  with  wondering  and 
anxious  eyes.  "Whither  can  he  fly?  The  vaults  of  the  cas- 
tle may  conceal  him.     This  way ;  hasten !  " 

"Stay,"  said  Inez,  trembling,  and  approaching  close  to 
Almamen.  "Do  I  see  aright,  and  amidst  the  dark  change 
of  years  and  trial  do  I  recognize  that  stately  form  which  once 
contrasted  to  the  sad  eye  of  a  mother  the  drooping  and  faded 
form  of  her  only  son?  Art  thou  not  he  who  saved  my  boy 
from  the  pestilence,  who  accompanied  him  to  the  shores  of 
Naples,  and  consigned  him  to  these  arms?  Look  on  me! 
Dost  thou  not  recall  the  mother  of  thy  friend?" 

"  I  recall  thy  features  dimly  and  as  in  a  dream, "  answered 
the  Hebrew;  "and  while  thou  speakest,  there  rush  upon  me 
the  memories  of  an  earlier  time,  in  lands  where  Leila  first 
looked  upon  the  day,  and  her  mother  sang  to  me  at  sunset  by 
the  stream  of  the  Euphrates  and  on  the  sites  of  departed 
empires.  Thy  son — I  remember  now;  I  had  friendship 
then  with  a  Christian,  for  I  was  still  young." 

"Waste  not  the  time,  Father,  Seiiora!"  cried  Leila,  impa- 
tiently, clinging  still  to  her  father^s  breast. 

"  You  are  right ;  nor  shall  your  sire,  in  whom  I  thus  won- 
derfully recognize  my  son's  friend,  perish  if  I  can  save  him." 


LEILA.  109 

Inez  then  conducted  her  strange  guest  to  a  small  door  in 
the  rear  of  the  castle ;  and  after  leading  him  through  some  of 
the  principal  apartments,  left  him  in  one  of  the  tiring-rooms 
adjoining  her  own  chamber,  and  the  entrance  to  which  the 
arras  concealed.  She  rightly  judged  this  a  safer  retreat  than 
the  vaults  of  the  castle  might  afford,  since  her  great  name  and 
known  intimacy  with  Isabel  would  preclude  all  suspicion  of 
her  abetting  in  the  escape  of  the  fugitive,  and  keep  those 
places  the  most  secure  in  which,  without  such  aid,  he  could 
not  have  secreted  himself. 

In  a  few  minutes  several  of  the  troop  arrived  at  the  castle; 
and  on  learning  the  name  of  its  owner,  contented  themselves 
with  searching  the  gardens  and  the  lower  and  more  exposed 
apartments,  and  then,  recommending  to  the  servants  a  vigi- 
lant look-out,  remounted,  and  proceeded  to  scour  the  plain, 
over  which  now  slowly  fell  the  starlight  and  shade  of  night. 
When  Leila  stole  at  last  to  the  room  in  which  Almamen  was 
hid,  she  found  him,  stretched  on  his  mantle,  in  a  deep  sleep. 
Exhausted  by  all  he  had  undergone,  and  his  rigid  nerves,  as 
it  were,  relaxed  by  the  sudden  softness  of  that  interview  with 
his  child,  the  slumber  of  that  fiery  wanderer  was  as  calm  as 
an  infant's;  and  their  relation  almost  seemed  reversed,  and 
the  daughter  to  be  as  a  mother  watching  over  her  offspring, 
when  Leila  seated  herself  softly  by  him,  fixing  her  eyes  —  to 
which  the  tears  came  evci.-,  ever  to  be  brushed  away  —  upon 
his  worn  but  tranquil  features,  made  yet  more  serene  by  the 
quiet  light  that  glimmered  through  the  casement.  And  so 
passed  the  hours  of  that  night ;  and  the  father  and  the  child 
—  the  meek  convert,  the  revengeful  fanatic  —  were  under  the 
same  roof. 


110  LEILA. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ALMAMEN  HEARS  AND  SEES,  BUT  REFUSES  TO  BELIEVE;  FOR 
THE  BRAIN,  OVERWROUGHT,  GROWS  DULL,  EVEN  IN  THE 
KEENEST. 

The  dawn  broke  slowly  upon  tlie  chamber,  and  Almamen 
still  slept.  It  was  the  Sabbath  of  the  Christians,  —  that  day 
on  which  the  Saviour  rose  from  the  dead;  thence  named  so 
emphatically  and  sublimely  by  the  Early  Church  The  Lord's 
Day.^  And  as  the  ray  of  the  sun  flashed  in  the  east,  it  fell 
like  a  glory  over  a  crucifix  placed  in  the  deep  recess  of  the 
Gothic  casement,  and  brought  startlingly  before  the  eyes  of 
Leila  that  face  upon  which  the  rudest  of  the  Catholic  sculp- 
tors rarely  fail  to  preserve  the  mystic  and  awful  union  of  the 
expiring  anguish  of  the  man  with  the  lofty  patience  of  the 
God.  It  looked  upon  her,  that  face;  it  invited,  it  encour- 
aged, while  it  thrilled  and  subdued.  She  stole  gently  from 
the  side  of  her  father ;  she  crept  to  the  spot,  and  flung  herself 
on  her  knees  beside  the  consecrated  image. 

"  Support  me,  0  Redeemer !  "  she  murmured ;  "  support  thy 
creature!  strengthen  her  steps  in  the  blessed  path,  though  it 
divide  her  irrevocably  from  all  that  on  earth  she  loves.  And 
if  there  be  a  sacrifice  in  her  solemn  choice,  accept,  0  Thou, 
the  Crucified!  accept  it,  in  part  atonement  of  the  crime  of  her 
stubborn  race;  and  hereafter  let  the  lips  of  a  maiden  of 
Judaea  implore  thee,  not  in  vain,  for  some  mitigation  of  the 
awful  curse  that  hath  fallen  justly  upon  her  tribe." 

As,  broken  by  low  sobs,  and  in  a  choked  and  muttered  voice, 
Leila  poured  forth  her  prayer,  she  was  startled  by  a  deep 
groan;  and  turning  in  alarm  she  saw  that  Almamen  had 
awaked,  and,  leaning  on  his  arm,  was  now  bending  upon  her 
his  dark  eyes,  once  more  gleaming  with  all  their  wonted  fire. 

1  Before  the  Christian  era  the  Sunday  was,  however,  called  the  Lord's 
day, — that  is,  the  day  of  the  Lord  the  Sim. 


LEILA.  Ill 

"  Speak, "  he  said,  as  slie  coweringly  hid  her  face,  — 
"speak  to  me,  or  I  shall  be  turned  to  stone  by  one  horrid 
thought.  It  is  not  before  that  symbol  that  thou  kneelest  in 
adoration;  and  my  sense  wanders  if  it  tell  me  that  thy  broken 
words  expressed  the  worship  of  an  apostate?  In  mercy, 
speak !  " 

"Father!  "  began  Leila;  but  her  lips  refused  to  utter  more 
than  that  touching  and  holy  word. 

Almamen  rose,  and  plucking  the  hands  from  her  face,  gazed 
on  her  some  moments,  as  if  he  would  penetrate  her  very  soul ; 
and  Leila,  recovering  her  courage  in  the  pause,  by  degrees  met 
his  eyes  unquailing,  —  her  pure  and  ingenuous  brow  raised  to 
his,  and  sadness,  but  not  guilt,  speaking  from  every  line  of 
that  lovely  face. 

"  Thou  dost  not  tremble, "  said  Almamen,  at  length  break- 
ing the  silence,  "  and  I  have  erred.  Thou  art  not  the  criminal 
I  deemed  thee.     Come  to  my  arms!  " 

"  Alas ! "  said  Leila,  obeying  the  instinct,  and  casting  her- 
self upon  that  rugged  bosom,  "I  will  dare,  at  least,  not  to 
disavow  my  God.  Father,  by  that  dread  anathema  which  is 
on  our  race,  which  has  made  us  homeless  and  powerless,  out- 
casts and  strangers  in  the  land,  —  by  the  persecution  and 
anguish  we  have  known,  teach  thy  lordly  heart  that  we  are 
rightly  punished  for  the  persecution  and  the  anguish  we 
doomed  to  Him  whose  footstep  hallowed  our  native  earth! 
First,  in  the  history  of  the  world,  did  the  stern 
Hebrews  inflict  upon  mankind  the  awful  crime  of 
persecution  for  opinion's  sake.  The  seed  we  sowed 
hath  brought  forth  the  Dead  Sea  fruit  upon  which  we  feed. 
I  asked  for  resignation  and  for  hope :  I  looked  upon  yonder 
cross,  and  I  found  both.  Harden  not  thy  heart;  listen  to  thy 
child;  wise  though  thou  be,  and  weak  though  her  woman 
spirit,  listen  to  me." 

"Be  dumb,"  cried  Almamen,  in  such  a  voice  as  might  have 
come  from  the  charnel,  so  ghostly  and  deathly  sounded  its 
hollow  tone;  then,  recoiling  some  steps,  he  placed  both  his 
hands  upon  his  temples;  and  muttered,  "Mad,  mad!  yes, 
yes ;  this  is  but  a  delirium,  and  I  am  tempted  with  a  devil ! 


112  LEILA. 

Oh,  my  child,"  he  resumed,  in  a  voice  that  became,  on  the 
sudden,  inexpressibly  tender  and  imploring,  "I  have  been 
sorely  tried,  and  I  dreamed  a  feverish  dream  of  passion  and 
revenge.  Be  thine  the  lips  and  thine  the  soothing  hand  that 
shall  wake  me  from  it.  Let  us  fly  forever  from  these  hated 
lands;  let  us  leave  to  these  miserable  infidels  their  bloody 
contest,  careless  which  shall  fall.  To  a  soil  on  which  the 
iron  heel  does  not  clang,  to  an  air  where  man's  orisons  rise 
in  solitude  to  the  Great  Jehovah,  let  us  hasten  our  weary 
steps.  Come!  while  the  castle  yet  sleeps,  let  us  forth  un- 
seen, —  the  father  and  the  child.  We  will  hold  sweet  com- 
mune by  the  way.  And  hark  ye,  Leila,"  he  added,  in  a  low 
and  abrupt  whisper,  "talk  not  to  me  of  yonder  symbol;  for 
thy  God  is  a  jealous  God,  and  hath  no  likeness  in  the  graven 
image." 

Had  he  been  less  exhausted  by  long  travail  and  racking 
thoughts,  far  different,  perhaps,  would  have  been  the  lan- 
guage of  a  man  so  stern.  But  circumstance  impresses  the 
hardest  substance ;  and  despite  his  native  intellect  and  af- 
fected superiority  over  others,  no  one,  perhaps,  was  more  hu- 
man, in  his  fitful  moods, — his  weakness  and  his  strength, 
his  passion  and  his  purpose,  —  than  that  strange  man  who 
had  dared,  in  his  dark  studies  and  arrogant  self-will,  to 
aspire  beyond  humanity. 

That  was,  indeed,  a  perilous  moment  for  the  young  convert. 
The  unexpected  softness  of  her  father  utterly  subdued  her; 
nor  was  she  sufficiently  possessed  of  that  all-denying  zeal  of 
the  Catholic  enthusiast  to  which  every  human  tie  and  earthly 
duty  has  been  often  sacrificed  on  the  shrine  of  a  rapt  and  met- 
aphysical piety.  Whatever  her  opinions,  her  new  creed,  her 
secret  desire  of  the  cloister,  fed  as  it  was  by  the  sublime, 
though  fallacious,  notion  that  in  her  conversion,  her  sacrifice, 
the  crimes  of  her  race  might  be  expiated  in  the  eyes  of  Him 
whose  death  had  been  the  great  atonement  of  a  world,  — r  what- 
ever such  higher  thoughts  and  sentiments,  they  gave  way  at 
that  moment  to  the  irresistible  impulse  of  household  nature 
and  of  filial  duty.  Should  she  desert  her  father,  and  could 
that  desertion  be  a  virtue?    Her  heart  put  and  answered  botli 


LEILA.  118 

questions  in  a  breath.  Slie  approached  Almamen,  placed  her 
hand  in  his,  and  said,  steadily  and  calmly,  "Father,  where- 
soever thou  goest,  I  will  wend  with  thee." 

But  Heaven  ordained  to  each  another  destiny  than  might 
have  been  theirs,  had  the  dictates  of  that  impulse  been 
fulfilled. 

Ere  Almamen  could  reply,  a  trumpet  sounded  clear  and 
loud  at  the  gate. 

"  Hark !  "  he  said,  griping  his  dagger,  and  starting  back  to 
a  sense  of  the  dangers  round  him.  "  They  come,  —  my  pur- 
suers and  my  murderers }  but  these  limbs  are  sacred  from  the 
rack." 

Even  that  sound  of  ominous  danger  was  almost  a  relief  to 
Leila.  "I  will  go,"  she  said,  "and  learn  what  the  blast  be- 
tokens.    Remain  here,  be  cautious;  I  will  return." 

Several  minutes,  however,  elapsed  before  Leila  reappeared ; 
she  was  accompanied  by  Donna  Inez,  whose  paleness  and 
agitation  betokened  her  alarm.  A  courier  had  arrived  at  the 
gate  to  announce  the  approach  of  the  queen,  who  with  a  con- 
siderable force  was  on  her  way  to  join  Ferdinand,  then,  in  the 
usual  rapidity  of  his  movements,  before  one  of  the  Moorish 
towns  that  had  revolted  from  his  allegiance.  It  was  impossi- 
ble for  Almamen  to  remain  in  safety  in  the  castle,  and  the 
only  hope  of  escape  was  departing  immediately  and  in 
disguise. 

"I  have,"  she  said,  "a  trusty  and  faithful  servant  with  me 
in  the  castle,  to  whom  I  can,  without  anxiety,  confide  the 
charge  of  your  safety ;  and  even  if  suspected  by  the  way,  my 
name,  and  the  companionship  of  my  servant,  will  remove  all 
obstacles.  It  is  not  a  long  journey  hence  to  Guadix,  which 
has  already  revolted  to  the  Moors;  there,  till  the  armies  of 
Ferdinand  surround  the  walls,  your  refuge  may  be  secure." 

Almamen  remained  for  some  moments  plunged  in  a  gloomy 
silence ;  but  at  length  he  signified  his  assent  to  the  plan  pro- 
posed, and  Donna  Inez  hastened  to  give  the  directions  to  his 
intended  guide. 

"Leila,"  said  the  Hebrew,  when  left  alone  with  his  daugh- 
ter, "think  not  that  it  is  for  mine  own  safety  that  I  stoop  to 

8 


114  LEILA. 

this  flight  from  thee.  No.  But  never  till  thou  wert  lost  to 
me,  by  mine  own  rash  confidence  in  another,  did  I  know  how 
dear  to  my  heart  was  the  last  scion  of  my  race,  the  sole  memo- 
rial left  to  me  of  thy  mother's  love.  Regaining  thee  once 
more,  a  new  and  a  soft  existence  opens  upon  my  eyes,  and 
the  earth  seems  to  change,  as  by  a  sudden  revolution,  from 
winter  into  spring.  For  thy  sake  I  consent  to  use  all  the 
means  that  man's  intellect  can  devise  for  preservation  from 
my  foes.  Meanwhile,  here  will  rest  my  soul;  to  this  spot, 
within  one  week  from  this  period,  —  no  matter  through  what 
danger  I  pass,  — I  shall  return;  then  I  shall  claim  thy  prom- 
ise. I  will  arrange  all  things  for  our  flight,  and  no  stone 
shall  harm  thy  footstep  by  the  way.  The  Lord  of  Israel  be 
with  thee,  my  daughter,  and  strengthen  thy  heart!  But,"  he 
added,  tearing  himself  from  her  embrace,  as  he  heard  steps 
ascending  to  the  chamber,  "  deem  not  that,  in  this  most  fond 
and  fatherly  affection,  I  forget  what  is  due  to  me  and  thee. 
Think  not  that  my  love  is  only  the  brute  and  insensate  feeling 
of  the  progenitor  to  the  offspring:  I  love  thee  for  thy  mother's 
sake;  I  love  thee  for  thine  own;  I  love  thee  yet  more  for  the 
sake  of  Israel.  If  thou  perish,  if  thou  art  lost  to  us,  thou, 
the  last  daughter  of  the  house  of  Issachar,  then  the  haughtiest 
family  of  God's  great  people  is  extinct." 

Here  Inez  appeared  at  the  door,  but  withdrew,  at  the 
impatient  and  lordly  gesture  of  Almamen,  who,  without 
further  heed  of  the  interruption,  resumed,  — 

"  I  look  to  thee  and  thy  seed  for  the  regeneration  which  I 
once  trusted,  fool  that  I  was,  mine  own  day  might  see  effected. 
Let  this  pass.  Thou  art  under  the  roof  of  the  Nazarene.  I 
will  not  believe  that  the  arts  we  have  resisted  against  fire 
and  sword  can  prevail  with  thee.  But  if  I  err,  awful  will  be 
the  penalty!  Gould  I  once  know  that  thou  hadst  forsaken 
thy  ancestral  creed,  though  warrior  and  priest  stood  by  thee, 
though  thousands  and  ten  thousands  were  by  thy  right  hand, 
this  steel  should  save  the  race  of  Issachar  from  dishonour. 
Beware!  Thou  weepest;  but,  child,  I  warn,  not  threaten. 
God  be  with  thee!" 

He  wrung  the  cold  hand  of  his  child,  turned  to  the  door, 


LEILA.  115 

and  after  such  disguise  as  the  brief  time  allowed  him  could 
afford,  quitted  the  castle  with  his  Spanish  guide,  who,  accus- 
tomed to  the  benevolence  of  his  mistress,  obeyed  her  injunc- 
tion without  wonder,  though  not  without  suspicion. 

The  third  part  of  an  hour  had  scarcely  elapsed,  and  the  sun 
was  yet  on  the  mountain-tops,  when  Isabel  arrived. 

She  came  to  announce  that  the  outbreaks  of  the  Moorish 
towns  in  the  vicinity  rendered  the  half -fortified  castle  of  her 
friend  no  longer  a  secure  abode ;  and  she  honoured  the  Span- 
ish lady  with  a  command  to  accompany  her,  with  her  female 
suite,  to  the  camp  of  Ferdinand. 

Leila  received  the  intelligence  with  a  kind  of  stupor.  Her 
interview  with  her  father,  the  strong  and  fearful  contests  of 
emotion  which  that  interview  occasioned,  left  her  senses  faint 
and  dizzy ;  and  when  she  found  herself,  by  the  twilight  star, 
once  more  with  the  train  of  Isabel,  the  only  feeling  that 
stirred  actively  through  her  stunned  and  bewildered  mind 
was  that  the  hand  of  Providence  conducted  her  from  a  temp- 
tation that,  the  Eeader  of  all  hearts  knew,  the  daughter  and 
woman  would  have  been  too  feeble  to  resist. 

On  the  fifth  day  from  his  departure  Almamen  returned,  — 
to  find  the  castle  deserted,  and  his  daughter  gone. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN  THE  FERMENT  OF  GREAT  EVENTS  THE  DREGS  RISE. 

The  Israelites  did  not  limit  their  struggles  to  the  dark 
conspiracy  to  which  allusion  has  been  made.  In  some  of  the 
Moorish  towns  that  revolted  from  Ferdinand,  they  renounced 
the  neutrality  they  had  hitherto  maintained  between  Chris- 
tian and  Moslem.  Whether  it  was  that  they  were  inflamed 
by  the  fearful  and  wholesale  barbarities  enforced  by  Ferdi- 
nand and  the  Inquisition  against  their  tribe;  or  whether  they 
were  stirred  up  by  one  of  their  own  order,  in  whom  was  recog- 


116  LEILA. 

nized  the  head  of  their  most  sacred  family ;  or  whether,  as  is 
most  probable,  both  causes  combined,  —  certain  it  is  that  they 
manifested  a  feeling  that  was  thoroughly  unknown  to  the 
ordinary  habits  and  policy  of  that  peaceable  people.  They 
bore  great  treasure  to  the  public  stock,  they  demanded  arms, 
and,  under  their  own  leaders,  were  admitted,  though  with 
much  jealousy  and  precaution,  into  the  troops  of  the  arrogant 
and  disdainful  Moslems. 

In  this  conjunction  of  hostile  planets,  Ferdinand  had 
recourse  to  his  favourite  policy  of  wile  and  stratagem. 
Turning  against  the  Jews  the  very  treaty  Almamen  had 
once  sought  to  obtain  in  their  favour,  he  caused  it  to  be 
circulated  privately  that  the  Jews,  anxious  to  purchase  their 
peace  with  him,  had  promised  to  betray  the  Moorish  towns 
and  Granada  itself  into  his  hands.  The  paper,  which  Ferdi- 
nand himself  had  signed  in  his  interview  with  Almamen,  and 
of  which,  on  the  capture  of  the  Hebrew,  he  had  taken  care  to 
repossess  himself,  he  gave  to  a  spy,  whom  he  sent,  disguised 
as  a  Jew,  into  one  of  the  revolted  cities. 

Private  intelligence  reached  the  Moorish  ringleader  of  the 
arrival  of  this  envoy.  He  was  seized,  and  the  document 
found  on  his  person.  The  form  of  the  words  drawn  up  by 
Almamen  (who  had  carefully  omitted  mention  of  his  own 
name,  —  whether  that  which  he  assumed,  or  that  which,  by 
birth,  he  should  have  borne)  merely  conveyed  the  compact 
that  if  by  a  Jew,  within  two  weeks  from  the  date  therein 
specified,  Granada  was  delivered  to  the  Christian  king,  the 
Jews  should  enjoy  certain  immunities  and  rights. 

The  discovery  of  this  document  filled  the  Moors  of  the  city 
to  which  the  spy  had  been  sent  with  a  fury  that  no  words  can 
describe.  Always  distrusting  their  allies,  they  now  imagined 
they  perceived  the  sole  reason  of  their  sudden  enthusiasm,  of 
their  demand  for  arms.  The  mob  rose;  the  principal  Jews 
were  seized  and  massacred  without  trial,  —  some  by  the  wrath 
of  the  multitude,  some  by  the  slower  tortures  of  the  magis- 
trate. Messengers  were  sent  to  the  different  revolted  towns, 
and,  above  all,  to  Granada  itself,  to  put  the  Moslems  on  their 
guard  against  these  unhappy  enemies  of  either  party.     At 


LEILA.  117 

once  covetous  and  ferocious,  the  Moors  rivalled  the  Inquisi- 
tion in  their  cruelty,  and  Ferdinand  in  their  extortion. 

It  was  the  dark  fate  of  Almamen,  as  of  most  premature  and 
heated  liberators  of  the  enslaved,  to  double  the  terrors  and  the 
evils  he  had  sought  to  cure.  The  warning  arrived  at  Granada 
at  a  time  in  which  the  vizier,  Jusef,  had  received  the  com- 
mands of  his  royal  master,  still  at  the  siege  of  Salobrena,  to 
use  every  exertion  to  fill  the  wasting  treasuries.  Fearful  of 
new  exactions  against  the  Moors,  the  vizier  hailed  as  a  mes- 
sage from  Heaven  so  just  a  pretext  for  a  new  and  sweeping 
impost  on  the  Jews.  The  spendthrift  violence  of  the  mob  was 
restrained,  because  it  was  headed  by  the  authorities,  who  were 
wisely  anxious  that  the  State  should  have  no  rival  in  the 
plunder  it  required ;  and  the  work  of  confiscation  and  robbery 
was  carried  on  with  a  majestic  and  calm  regularity  which 
redounded  no  less  to  the  credit  of  Jusef  than  it  contributed 
to  the  coffers  of  the  king. 

It  was  late  one  evening  when  Ximen  was  making  his  usual 
round  through  the  chambers  of  Almamen's  house.  As  he 
glanced  around  at  the  various  articles  of  wealth  and  luxury, 
he  ever  and  anon  burst  into  a  low,  fitful  chuckle,  rubbed  his 
lean  hands,  and  mumbled  out:  "If  my  master  should  die!  if 
my  master  should  die ! " 

While  thus  engaged,  he  heard  a  confused  and  distant  shout; 
and  listening  attentively,  he  distinguished  a  cry,  grown  of 
late  sufficiently  familiar,  of  "  Live,  Jusef  the  just,  —  perish, 
the  traitor  Jews !  " 

"Ah,"  said  Ximen,  as  the  whole  character  of  his  face 
changed;  "some  new  robbery  upon  our  race.  And  this  is 
thy  work,  son  of  Issachar!  Madman  that  thou  wert,  to  be 
wiser  than  thy  sires,  and  seek  to  dupe  the  idolaters  in  the 
council-chamber  and  the  camp,  —  their  field,  their  vantage- 
ground;  as  the  bazaar  and  the  market-place  are  ours.  None 
suspect  that  the  potent  santon  is  the  traitor  Jew,  but  I  know 
it.  I  could  give  thee  to  the  bow-string;  and  if  thou  wert 
dead,  all  thy  goods  and  gold,  even  to  the  mule  at  the  manger, 
would  be  old  Ximen's." 

He  paused  at  that  thought,  shut  his  eyes,  and  smiled  at  the 


118  LEILA. 

prospect  his  fancy  conjured  up;  and  completing  his  survey, 
retired  to  his  own  chamber,  which  opened,  by  a  small  door, 
upon  one  of  the  back  courts.  He  had  scarcely  reached  the 
room  when  he  heard  a  low  tap  at  the  outer  door,  and  when  it 
was  thrice  repeated,  he  knew  that  it  was  one  of  his  Jewish 
brethren ;  for  Ximen  —  as  years,  isolation,  and  avarice  gnawed 
away  whatever  of  virtue  once  put  forth  some  meagre  fruit 
from  a  heart  naturally  bare  and  rocky  —  still  preserved  one 
human  feeling  towards  his  countrymen.  It  was  the  bond 
which  unites  all  the  persecuted;  and  Ximen  loved  them, 
because  he  could  not  envy  their  happiness.  The  power,  the 
knowledge,  the  lofty,  though  wild,  designs  of  his  master, 
stung  and  humbled  him ;  he  secretly  hated,  because  he  could 
not  compassionate  or  contemn  him.  But  the  bowed  frame 
and  slavish  voice  and  timid  nerves  of  his  crushed  brother- 
hood presented  to  the  old  man  the  likeness  of  things  that 
could  not  exult  over  him.  Debased  and  aged  and  solitary  as 
he  was,  he  felt  a  kind  of  wintry  warmth  in  the  thought  that 
even  he  had  the  power  to  protect ! 

He  thus  maintained  an  intercourse  with  his  fellow  Israelites, 
and  often  in  their  dangers  had  afforded  them  a  refuge  in  the 
numerous  vaults  and  passages,  the  ruins  of  which  may  still 
be  descried  beneath  the  mouldering  foundations  of  that  mys- 
terious mansion.  And  as  the  house  was  generally  supposed 
the  property  of  an  absent  emir,  and  had  been  especially  rec- 
ommended to  the  care  of  the  cadis  by  Boabdil,  who  alone  of 
the  Moors  knew  it  as  one  of  the  dwelling-places  of  the  santon, 
whose  ostensible  residence  was  in  apartments  allotted  to  him 
within  the  palace,  —  it  was  perhaps  the  sole  place  within 
Granada  which  afforded  an  unsuspected  and  secure  refuge  to 
the  hunted  Israelites. 

When  Ximen  recognized  the  wonted  signal  of  his  brethren, 
he  crawled  to  the  door;  and  after  the  precaution  of  a  Hebrew 
watchword,  replied  to  in  the  same  tongue,  he  gave  admittance 
to  the  tall  and  stooping  frame  of  the  rich  Elias. 

"Worthy  and  excellent  master,"  said  Ximen,  after  again 
securing  the  entrance,  "what  can  bring  the  honoured  and 
wealthy  Elias  to  the  chamber  of  the  poor  hireling?  " 


LEILA.  119 

"  My  friend, "  answered  tlie  Jew,  "  call  me  not  wealthy  nor 
honoured.  For  years  I  have  dwelt  within  the  city,  safe  and 
respected,  even  by  the  Moslemin,  verily  and  because  I  have 
purchased,  with  jewels  and  treasure,  the  protection  of  the 
king  and  the  great  men.  But  now,  alas !  in  the  sudden  wrath  of 
the  heathen  —  ever  imagining  vain  things  —  I  have  been  sum- 
moned into  the  presence  of  their  chief  rabbi,  and  only  escaped 
the  torture  by  a  sum  that  ten  years  of  labour  and  the  sweat 
of  my  brow  cannot  replace.  Ximen,  the  bitterest  thought  of 
all  is  that  the  frenzy  of  one  of  our  own  tribe  has  brought  this 
desolation  upon  Israel." 

"My  lord  speaks  riddles,"  said  Ximen,  with  well-feigned 
astonishment  in  his  glassy  eyes. 

"  Why  dost  thou  wind  and  turn,  good  Ximen?  "  said  the  Jew, 
shaking  his  head.  "  Thou  knowest  well  what  my  words  drive 
at.  Thy  master  is  the  pretended  Almamen ;  and  that  recreant 
Israelite  (if  Israelite,  indeed,  still  be  one  who  hath  forsaken 
the  customs  and  the  forms  of  his  forefathers)  is  he  who  hath 
stirred  up  the  Jews  of  Cordova  and  Guadix,  and  whose  folly 
hath  brought  upon  us  these  dread  things.  Holy  Abraham! 
this  Jew  hath  cost  me  more  than  fifty  Nazarenes  and  a  hun- 
dred Moors." 

Ximen  remained  silent;  and  the  tongue  of  Elias  being 
loosed  by  the  recollection  of  his  sad  loss,  the  latter  con- 
tinued: "At  the  first,  when  the  son  of  Issachar  reappeared 
and  became  a  counsellor  in  the  king's  court,  I  indeed,  who 
had  led  him,  then  a  child,  to  the  synagogue,  —  for  old  Issa- 
char was  to  me  dear  as  a  brother,  —  recognized  him  by  his 
eyes  and  voice.  But  I  exulted  in  his  craft  and  concealment; 
I  believed  he  would  work  mighty  things  for  his  poor  brethren, 
and  would  obtain  for  his  father's  friend  the  supplying  of  the 
king's  wives  and  concubines  with  raiment  and  cloth  of  price. 
But  years  have  passed:  he  hath  not  lightened  our  burdens; 
and  by  the  madness  that  hath  of  late  come  over  him,  heading 
the  heathen  armies  and  drawing  our  brethren  into  danger  and 
death,  he  hath  deserved  the  curse  of  the  synagogue  and  the 
wrath  of  our  whole  race.  I  find,  from  our  brethren  who 
escaped  the  Inquisition  by  the  surrender  of  their  substance, 


120  LEILA. 

that  his  unskilful  and  frantic  schemes  were  the  main  pretext 
for  the  sufferings  of  the  righteous  under  the  Nazarene;  and, 
again,  the  same  schemes  bring  on  us  the  same  oppression 
from  the  Moor.  Accursed  be  he,  and  may  his  name  perish!  " 
Ximen  sighed,  but  remained  silent,  conjecturing  to  what 
end  the  Jew  would  bring  his  invectives.  He  was  not  long  in 
suspense.  After  a  pause,  Elias  recommenced,  in  an  altered 
and  more  careless  tone:  "He  is  rich,  this  son  of  Issachar,  — 
wondrous  rich." 

"  He  has  treasures  scattered  over  half  the  cities  of  Africa 
and  the  Orient, "  said  Ximen. 

"  Thou  seest,  then,  my  friend,  that  thy  master  hath  doomed 
me  to  a  heavy  loss.  I  possess  his  secret;  I  could  give  him 
up  to  the  king's  wrath;  I  could  bring  him  to  the  death.  But 
I  am  just  and  meek:  let  him  pay  my  forfeiture,  and  I  will 
forego  mine  anger." 

"Thou  dost  not  know  him,"  said  Ximen,  alarmed  at  the 
thought  of  a  repayment  which  might  grievously  diminish  his 
own  heritage  of  Almamen's  effects  in  Granada. 
"But  if  I  threaten  him  with  exposure?" 
"Thou  wouldst  feed  the  fishes  of  the  Darro,"  interrupted 
Ximen.  "  Nay,  even  now,  if  Almamen  learn  that  thou  know- 
est  his  birth  and  race,  tremble ;  for  thy  days  in  the  land  will 
be  numbered." 

"Verily,"  exclaimed  the  Jew,  in  great  alarm,  "then  have  I 
fallen  into  the  snare;  for  these  lips  revealed  to  him  that 
knowledge." 

"Then  is  the  righteous  Elias  a  lost  man,  within  ten  days 
from  that  in  which  Almamen  returns  to  Granada.  I  know 
my  master,  and  blood  is  to  him  as  water." 

"  Let  the  wicked  be  consumed ! "  cried  Elias,  furiously, 
stamping  his  foot,  while  fire  flashed  from  his  dark  eyes ;  for 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation  made  him  fierce.  "  Not  from 
me,  however,"  he  added,  more  calmly,  "will  come  his  danger. 
Know  that  there  be  more  than  a  hundred  Jews  in  this  city 
who  have  sworn  his  death,  —  Jews  who,  flying  hither  from 
Cordova,  have  seen  their  parents  murdered  and  their  sub- 
stance seized,  and  who  behold  in  the  son  of  Issachar  the 


LEILA.  121 

cause  of  tlie  murder  and  the  spoiL  They  have  detected  the 
impostor,  and  a  hundred  knives  are  whetting  even  now  for 
his  blood :  let  him  look  to  it !  Ximen,  I  have  spoken  to  thee 
as  the  foolish  speak,  —  thou  mayest  betray  me  to  thy  lord ; 
but  from  what  I  have  learned  of  thee  from  our  brethren,  I 
have  poured  my  heart  into  thy  bosom  without  fear.  Wilt 
thou  betray  Israel,  or  assist  us  to  smite  the  traitor?" 

Ximen  mused  for  a  moment,  and  his  meditation  conjured 
up  the  treasures  of  his  master.  He  stretched  forth  his  right 
hand  to  Elias,  and  when  the  Israelites  parted,  they  were 
friends. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


BEFORE   GRANADA. 


The  third  morning  from  this  interview  a  rumour  reached 
Granada  that  Boabdil  had  been  repulsed  in  his  assault  on  the 
citadel  of  Salobrena  with  a  severe  loss,  that  Hernando  del 
Pulgar  had  succeeded  in  conducting  to  its  relief  a  consider- 
able force,  and  that  the  army  of  Ferdinand  was  on  its  march 
against  the  Moorish  king.  In  the  midst  of  the  excitement 
occasioned  by  these  reports  a  courier  arrived  to  confirm  their 
truth  and  to  announce  the  return  of  Boabdil. 

At  nightfall  the  king,  preceding  his  army,  entered  the  city, 
and  hastened  to  bury  himself  in  the  Alhambra.  As  he  passed 
dejectedly  into  the  women's  apartments,  his  stern  mother  met 
him. 

"My  son,"  she  said  bitterly,  "dost  thou  return,  and  not  a 
conqueror?  " 

Before  Boabdil  could  reply,  a  light  and  rapid  step  sped 
through  the  glittering  arcades;  and  weeping  with  joy,  and 
breaking  all  the  Oriental  restraints.  Amine  fell  upon  his 
bosom.  "My  beloved,  my  king,  light  of  mine  eyes,  thou 
hast  returned !     Welcome  j  for  thou  art  safe !  " 


122  LEILA. 

The  different  form  of  these  several  salutations  struck 
Boabdil  forcibly.  "Thou  seest,  my  mother,"  said  he,  "how 
great  the  contrast  between  those  who  love  us  from  affection, 
and  those  who  love  us  from  pride.  In  adversity,  God  keep 
me,  O  my  mother,  from  thy  tongue !  " 

"But  I  love  thee  from  pride  too,"  murmured  Amine;  "and 
for  that  reason  is  thine  adversity  dear  to  me,  for  it  takes  thee 
from  the  world  to  make  thee  more  mine  own.  And  I  am 
proud  of  the  afflictions  that  my  hero  shares  with  his  slave." 

"Lights  there,  and  the  banquet!"  cried  the  king,  turning 
from  his  haughty  mother;  "we  will  feast  and  be  merry  while 
we  may.     My  adored  Amine,  kiss  me !  " 

Proud,  melancholy,  and  sensitive  as  he  was  in  that  hour  of 
reverse,  Boabdil  felt  no  grief:  such  balm  has  Love  for  our 
sorrows,  when  its  wings  are  borrowed  from  the  dove!  And 
although  the  laws  of  the  Eastern  life  confined  to  the  narrow 
walls  of  a  harem  the  sphere  of  Amine's  gentle  influence; 
although,  even  in  romance,  the  natural  compels  us  to  por- 
tray her  vivid  and  rich  colours  only  in  a  faint  and  hasty 
sketch, — yet  still  are  left  to  the  outline  the  loveliest  and  the 
noblest  features  of  the  sex:  the  spirit  to  arouse  us  to  exer- 
tion, the  softness  to  console  us  in  our  fall ! 

While  Boabdil  and  the  body  of  the  army  remained  in  the 
city,  Muza,  with  a  chosen  detachment  of  the  horse,  scoured 
the  country  to  visit  the  newly  acquired  cities  and  sustain 
their  courage. 

From  this  charge  he  was  recalled  by  the  army  of  Ferdi- 
nand, which  once  more  poured  down  into  the  Vega,  completely 
devastated  its  harvests,  and  then  swept  back  to  consummate 
the  conquests  of  the  revolted  towns.  To  this  irruption  suc- 
ceeded an  interval  of  peace,  —  the  calm  before  the  storm. 
From  every  part  of  Spain  the  most  chivalric  and  resolute  of 
the  Moors  taking  advantage  of  the  pause  in  the  contest, 
flocked  to  Granada;  and  that  city  became  the  focus  of  all 
that  paganism  in  Europe  possessed  of  brave  and  determined 
spirits. 

At  length  Ferdinand,  completing  his  conquests,  and  having 
refilled  his  treasury,  mustered  the  whole  force  of  his  domin- 


LEILA.  123 

ions,  —  forty  thousand  foot,  and  ten  thousand  horse,  and  once 
more,  and  for  the  last  time,  appeared  before  the  walls  of 
Granada.  A  solemn  and  prophetic  determination  filled  both 
besiegers  and  besieged ;  each  felt  that  the  crowning  crisis  was 
at  hand. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE     CONFLAGRATION.  THE     MAJESTY     OF     AN      INDIVIDUAL 

PASSION   IN   THE   MIDST    OF    HOSTILE   THOUSANDS. 

It  was  the  eve  of  a  great  and  general  assault  upon  Granada, 
deliberately  planned  by  the  chiefs  of  the  Christian  army.  The 
Spanish  camp  (the  most  gorgeous  Christendom  had  ever 
known)  gradually  grew  calm  and  hushed.  The  shades  deep- 
ened, the  stars  burned  forth  more  serene  and  clear.  Bright, 
in  that  azure  air  streamed  the  silken  tents  of  the  court,  blaz- 
oned with  heraldic  devices  and  crowned  by  gaudy  banners, 
which,  filled  by  a  brisk  and  murmuring  wind  from  the  moun- 
tains, flaunted  gayly  on  their  gilded  staves.  In  the  centre  of 
the  camp  rose  the  pavilion  of  the  queen,  —  a  palace  in  itself. 
Lances  made  its  columns ;  brocade  and  painted  arras  its  walls ; 
and  the  space  covered  by  its  numerous  compartments  would 
have  contained  the  halls  and  outworks  of  an  ordinary  castle. 
The  pomp  of  that  camp  realized  the  wildest  dreams  of  Gothic 
coupled  with  Oriental  splendour,  —  something  worthy  of  a 
Tasso  to  have  imagined,  or  a  Beckford  to  create.  Nor  was  the 
exceeding  costliness  of  the  more  courtly  tents  lessened  in 
effect  by  those  of  the  soldiery  in  the  outskirts,  many  of  which 
were  built  from  boughs  still  retaining  their  leaves, — savage 
and  picturesque  huts,  —  as  if,  realizing  old  legends,  wild  men 
of  the  woods  had  taken  up  the  cross  and  followed  the  Chris- 
tian warriors  against  the  swarthy  followers  of  Termagaunt 
and  Mahound.  There,  then,  extended  that  mighty  camp  in 
profound  repose  as  the  midnight  threw  deeper  and  longer 
shadows  over  the  sward  from  the  tented  avenues  and  canvas 


124  LEILA. 

streets.  It  was  at  that  hour  that  Isabel,  in  the  most  private 
recess  of  her  pavilion,  was  employed  in  prayer  for  the  safety 
of  the  king  and  the  issue  of  the  Sacred  War.  Kneeling  before 
the  altar  of  that  warlike  oratory,  her  spirit  became  rapt  and 
absorbed  from  earth  in  the  intensity  of  her  devotions;  and  in 
the  whole  camp  (save  the  sentries),  the  eyes  of  that  pious 
queen  were  perhaps  the  only  ones  unclosed.  All  was  pro- 
foundly still;  her  guards,  her  attendants,  were  gone  to  rest; 
and  the  tread  of  the  sentinel  without  that  immense  pavilion, 
was  not  heard  through  the  silken  walls. 

It  was  then  that  Isabel  suddenly  felt  a  strong  grasp  upon 
her  shoulder  as  she  still  knelt  by  the  altar.  A  faint  shriek 
burst  from  her  lips ;  she  turned,  and  the  broad,  curved  knife 
of  an  Eastern  warrior  gleamed  close  before  her  eyes. 

"Hush!  utter  a  cry,  breathe  more  loudly  than  thy  wont, 
and,  queen  though  thou  art,  in  the  centre  of  swarming  thou- 
sands, thou  diest! " 

Such  were  the  words  that  reached  the  ear  of  the  royal 
Castilian,  whispered  by  a  man  of  stern  and  commanding, 
though  haggard,  aspect. 

"What  is  thy  purpose?  Wouldst  thou  murder  me?"  said 
the  queen,  trembling,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  before  a  mor- 
tal presence. 

"  Thy  life  is  safe,  if  thou  strivest  not  to  delude  or  to  deceive 
me.  Our  time  is  short, — answer  me!  I  am  Almamen  the 
Hebrew.  Where  is  the  hostage  rendered  to  thy  hands?  I 
claim  my  child.  She  is  with  thee,  I  know  it.  In  what  cor- 
ner of  thy  camp?" 

"  Eude  stranger ! "  said  Isabel,  recovering  somewhat  from 
her  alarm,  "thy  daughter  is  removed,  I  trust  forever,  from 
thine  impious  reach.     She  is  not  within  the  camp." 

"Lie  not.  Queen  of  Castile,"  said  Almamen,  raising  his 
knife.  "For  days  and  weeks  I  have  tracked  thy  steps,  fol- 
lowed thy  march,  haunted  even  thy  slumbers,  though  men  of 
mail  stood  as  guards  around  them ;  and  I  know  that  my  daugh- 
ter has  been  with  thee.  Think  not  I  brave  this  danger  with- 
out resolves  the  most  fierce  and  dread.  Answer  me,  where  is 
my  child?" 


LEILA.  125 

"Many  days  since,"  said  Isabel,  awed,  despite  herself,  by 
her  strange  position,  "thy  daughter  left  the  camp  for  the 
house  of  God.  It  was  her  own  desire.  The  Saviour  hath 
received  her  into  his  fold." 

Had  a  thousand  lances  pierced  his  heart,  the  vigour  and 
energy  of  life  could  scarce  more  suddenly  have  deserted  Alma- 
men.  The  rigid  muscles  of  his  countenance  relaxed  at  once, 
from  resolve  and  menace,  into  unutterable  horror,  anguish, 
and  despair.  He  recoiled  several  steps;  his  knees  trembled 
violently;  he  seemed  stunned  by  a  death-blow.  Isabel,  the 
boldest  and  haughtiest  of  her  sex,  seized  that  moment  of 
reprieve;  she  sprang  forward,  darted  through  the  draperies 
into  the  apartments  occupied  by  her  train,  and  in  a  moment 
the  pavilion  resounded  with  her  cries  for  aid.  The  sentinels 
were  aroused;  retainers  sprang  from  their  pillows;  they  heard 
the  cause  of  the  alarm ;  they  made  to  the  spot :  when,  ere  they 
reached  its  partition  of  silk,  a  vivid  and  startling  blaze  burst 
forth  upon  them.  The  tent  was  on  fire.  The  materials  fed 
the  flame  like  magic.  Some  of  the  guards  had  yet  the  courage 
to  dash  forward,  but  the  smoke  and  the  glare  drove  them 
back,  blinded  and  dizzy.  Isabel  herself  had  scarcely  time  for 
escape,  so  rapid  was  the  conflagration.  Alarmed  for  her  hus- 
band, she  rushed  to  his  tent,  —  to  find  him  already  awakened 
by  the  noise,  and  issuing  from  its  entrance,  his  drawn  sword 
in  his  hand.  The  wind,  which  had  a  few  minutes  before  but 
curled  the  triumphant  banners,  now  circulated  the  destroying 
flame.  It  spread  from  tenfc  to  tent  almost  as  a  flash  of  light- 
ning that  shoots  along  neighbouring  clouds.  The  camp  was 
in  one  continued  blaze  ere  any  man  could  dream  of  checking 
the  conflagration. 

Not  waiting  to  hear  the  confused  tale  of  his  royal  consort, 
Ferdinand,  exclaiming,  "  The  Moors  have  done  this ;  they  will 
be  on  us ! "  ordered  the  drums  to  beat  and  the  trumpets  to 
sound,  and  hastened  in  person,  wrapped  merely  in  his  long 
mantle,  to  alarm  his  chiefs.  While  that  well-disciplined  and 
veteran  army,  fearing  every  moment  the  rally  of  the  foe, 
endeavoured  rapidly  to  form  themselves  into  some  kind  of 
order,  the  flame  continued  to  spread  till  the  whole  heavens 


126  LEILA. 

were  illumined.  By  its  light,  cuirass  and  helmet  glowed  as 
in  the  furnace,  and  the  armed  men  seemed  rather  like  life-like 
and  lurid  meteors  than  human  forms.  The  city  of  Granada 
was  brought  near  to  them  by  the  intensity  of  the  glow;  and 
as  a  detachment  of  cavalry  spurred  from  the  camp  to  meet 
the  anticipated  surprise  of  the  Paynims,  they  saw,  upon  the 
walls  and  roofs  of  Granada,  the  Moslems  clustering,  and  their 
spears  gleaming.  But  equally  amazed  with  the  Christians,  and 
equally  suspicious  of  craft  and  design,  the  Moors  did  not  issue 
from  their  gates.  Meanwhile  the  conflagration,  as  rapid  to  die 
as  to  begin,  grew  fitful  and  feeble,  and  the  night  seemed  to  fall 
with  a  melancholy  darkness  over  the  ruin  of  that  silken  city. 

Ferdinand  summoned  his  council.  He  had  now  perceived 
it  was  no  ambush  of  the  Moors.  The  account  of  Isabel,  which 
at  last  he  comprehended;  the  strange  and  almost  miraculous 
manner  in  which  Almamen  had  baffled  his  guards,  and  pene- 
trated to  the  royal  tent,  —  might  have  aroused  his  Gothic 
superstition,  while  it  relieved  his  more  earthly  apprehensions, 
if  he  had  not  remembered  the  singular,  but  far  from  super- 
natural, dexterity  with  which  Eastern  warriors,  and  even 
robbers,  continued  then,  as  now,  to  elude  the  most  vigilant 
precautions,  and  baffle  the  most  wakeful  guards ;  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  fire  which  burned  the  camp  of  an  army  had 
been  kindled  merely  to  gratify  the  revenge  or  favour  the 
escape  of  an  individual.  Shaking,  therefore,  from  his  kingly 
spirit  the  thrill  of  superstitious  awe  that  the  greatness  of  the 
disaster,  when  associated  with  the  name  of  a  sorcerer,  at  first 
occasioned,  he  resolved  to  make  advantage  out  of  misfortune 
itself.  The  excitement,  the  wrath,  of  the  troops  produced 
the  temper  most  fit  for  action. 

"And  Heaven,"  said  the  king  of  Spain  to  his  knights  and 
chiefs,  as  they  assembled  round  him,  "  has,  in  this  conflagra- 
tion, announced  to  the  warriors  of  the  Cross  that  henceforth 
their  camp  shall  be  the  palaces  of  Granada!  Woe  to  the 
Moslem  with  to-morrow^s  sun!  " 

Arms  clanged,  and  swords  leaped  from  their  sheaths,  as 
the  Christian  knights  echoed  the  anathema:  "Woe  to  the 
Moslem  ! " 


BOOK    V. 


CHAPTEK   I. 

THE    GREAT    BATTLE. 

The  day  slowly  dawned  upon  that  awful  night;  and  the 
Moors,  still  upon  the  battlements  of  Granada,  beheld  the 
whole  army  of  Ferdinand  on  its  march  towards  their  walls. 
At  a  distance  lay  the  wrecks  of  the  blackened  and  smoulder- 
ing camp ;  while  before  them,  gaudy  and  glittering  pennons 
waving,  and  trumpets  sounding,  came  the  exultant  legions  of 
the  foe.  The  Moors  could  scarcely  believe  their  senses. 
Fondly  anticipating  the  retreat  of  the  Christians,  after  so 
signal  a  disaster,  the  gay  and  dazzling  spectacle  of  their 
march  to  the  assault  filled  them  with  consternation  and 
alarm. 

While  yet  wondering  and  inactive,  the  trumpet  of  Boabdil 
was  heard  behind,  and  they  beheld  the  Moorish  king,  at  the 
head  of  his  guards,  emerging  down  the  avenues  that  led  to  the 
gate.  The  sight  restored  and  exhilarated  the  gazers;  and 
when  Boabdil  halted  in  the  space  before  the  portals,  the 
shout  of  twenty  thousand  warriors  rose  ominously  to  the  ears 
of  the  advancing  Christians. 

"Men  of  Granada,"  said  Boabdil,  as  soon  as  the  deep  and 
breathless  silence  had  succeeded  to  that  martial  acclamation, 
"the  advance  of  the  enemy  is  to  their  destruction!  In  the 
fire  of  last  night,  the  hand  of  Allah  wrote  their  doom.  Let 
us  forth,  each  and  all !  We  will  leave  our  homes  unguarded ; 
our  hearts  shall  be  their  wall!  True  that  oar  numbers  are 
thinned  by  famine  and  by  slaughter,  but  enough  of  us  are  yet 
left  for  the  redemption  of  Granada.  Nor  are  the  dead  de- 
parted from  us,  —  the  dead  fight  with  us ;  their  souls  animate 


128  LEILA. 

our  own.  He  wlio  has  lost  a  brother,  becomes  twice  a  man. 
On  this  battle  we  will  set  all.  Liberty  or  chains !  empire  or 
exile!  victory  or  death!     Forward!" 

He  spoke,  and  gave  the  rein  to  his  barb.  It  bounded 
forward  and  cleared  the  gloomy  arch  of  the  portals,  and 
Boabdil  el  Chico  was  the  first  Moor  who  issued  from  Granada 
to  that  last  and  eventful  field.  Out,  then,  poured,  as  a  river 
that  rushes  from  caverns  into  day,  the  burnished  and  serried 
files  of  the  Moorish  cavalry.  Muza  came  the  last,  closing  the 
array.  Upon  his  dark  and  stern  countenance  there  spoke  not 
the  ardent  enthusiasm  of  the  sanguine  king.  It  was  locked 
and  rigid;  and  the  anxieties  of  the  last  dismal  weeks  had 
thinned  his  cheeks,  and  ploughed  deep  lines  around  the  firm 
lips  and  iron  jaw  which  bespoke  the  obstinate  and  unconquer- 
able resolution  of  his  character. 

As  Muza  now  spurred  forward,  and,  riding  along  the 
wheeling  ranks,  marshalled  them  in  order,  arose  the  acclama- 
tion of  female  voices ;  and  the  warriors,  who  looked  back  at 
the  sound,  saw  that  their  women  —  their  wives  and  daughters, 
their  mothers  and  their  beloved  (released  from  their  seclusion 
by  a  policy  which  bespoke  the  desperation  of  the  cause)  — 
were  gazing  at  them,  with  outstretched  arms,  from  the  battle- 
ments and  towers.  The  Moors  knew  that  they  were  now  to 
fight  for  their  hearths  and  altars  in  the  presence  of  those  who, 
if  they  failed,  became  slaves  and  harlots;  and  each  Moslem 
felt  his  heart  harden  like  the  steel  of  his  own  sabre. 

While  the  cavalry  formed  themselves  into  regular  squad- 
rons, and  the  tramp  of  the  foemen  came  more  near  and  near, 
the  Moorish  infantry,  in  miscellaneous,  eager,  and  undisci- 
plined bands,  poured  out,  until,  spreading  wide  and  deep 
below  the  walls,  BoabdiPs  charger  was  seen,  rapidly  career- 
ing amongst  them,  as,  in  short  but  distinct  directions  or  fiery 
adjuration,  he  sought  at  once  to  regulate  their  movements  and 
confirm  their  hot  but  capricious  valour. 

Meanwhile  the  Christians  had  abruptly  halted;  and  the 
politic  Ferdinand  resolved  not  to  incur  the  full  brunt  of  a 
whole  population  in  the  first  flush  of  their  enthusiasm  and 
despair.     He  summoned  to  his  pide  Hernando  del  Pulgar,  and 


I 


LEILA.  1^ 

bade  him,  with  a  troop  of  the  most  adventurous  and  practised 
horsemen,  advance  towards  the  Moorish  cavalry  and  endeavour 
to  draw  the  fiery  valour  of  Muza  away  from  the  main  army. 
Then,  splitting  up  his  force  into  several  sections,  he  dis- 
missed each  to  different  stations,  —  some  to  storm  the  adja- 
cent towers,  others  to  fire  the  surrounding  gardens  and 
orchards;  so  that  the  action  might  consist  rather  of  many 
battles  than  of  one,  and  the  Moors  might  lose  the  concentra- 
tion and  union  which  made,  at  present,  their  most  formidable 
strength. 

Thus,  while  the  Mussulmans  were  waiting  in  order  for  the 
attack,  they  suddenly  beheld  the  main  body  of  the  Chrsitians 
dispersing ;  and  while  yet  in  surprise  and  perplexed,  they  saw 
the  fires  breaking  out  from  their  delicious  gardens,  to  the 
right  and  left  of  the  walls,  and  heard  the  boom  of  the  Chris- 
tian artillery  against  the  scattered  bulwarks  that  guarded  the 
approaches  of  the  city. 

At  that  moment  a  cloud  of  dust  rolled  rapidly  towards  the 
post  occupied  in  the  van  by  Muza,  and  the  shock  of  the  Chris- 
tian knights,  in  their  mighty  mail,  broke  upon  the  centre  of 
the  prince's  squadron. 

Higher  by  several  inches  than  the  plumage  of  his  compan- 
ions, waved  the  crest  of  the  gigantic  Del  Pulgar;  and  as  Moor 
after  Moor  went  down  before  his  headlong  lance,  his  voice, 
sounding  deep  and  sepulchral  through  his  visor,  shouted  out: 
"Death  to  the  infidel!" 

The  rapid  and  dexterous  horsemen  of  Granada  were  not, 
however,  discomfited  by  this  fierce  assault;  opening  their 
ranks  with  extraordinary  celerity,  they  suffered  the  charge 
to  pass,  comparatively  harmless,  through  their  centre,  and 
then,  closing  in  one  long  and  bristling  line,  cut  off  the 
knights  from  retreat.  The  Christians  wheeled  round,  and 
charged  again  upon  their  foe. 

"Where  art  thou,  0  Moslem  dog  that  wouldst  play  the 
lion?    Where  art  thou,  Muza  Ben  Abil  Gazan?" 

"Before  thee.  Christian!"  cried  a  stern  and  clear  voice; 
and  from  amongst  the  helmets  of  his  people  gleamed  the 
dazzling  turban  of  the  Moor. 

9 


130  LEILA. 

Hernando  checked  liis  steed,  gazed  a  moment  at  his  foe, 
turned  back,  for  greater  impetus  to  his  charge,  and  in  a 
moment  more  the  bravest  warriors  of  the  two  armies  met, 
lance  to  lance. 

The  round  shield  of  Muza  received  the  Christianas  weapon ; 
his  own  spear  shivered,  harmless,  upon  the  breast  of  the  giant. 
He  drew  his  sword,  whirled  it  rapidly  over  his  head,  and  for 
some  minutes  the  eyes  of  the  bystanders  could  scarcely  mark 
the  marvellous  rapidity  with  which  strokes  were  given  and 
parried  by  those  redoubted  swordsmen. 

At  length  Hernando,  anxious  to  bring  to  bear  his  superior 
strength,  spurred  close  to  Muza,  and  leaving  his  sword  pen- 
dant by  a  thong  to  his  wrist,  seized  the  shield  of  Muza  in  his 
formidable  grasp,  and  plucked  it  away,  with  a  force  that  the 
Moor  vainly  endeavoured  to  resist;  Muza  therefore  suddenly 
released  his  hold,  and  ere  the  Spaniard  had  recovered  his 
balance  (which  was  lost  by  the  success  of  his  own  strength, 
put  forth  to  the  utmost),  he  dashed  upon  him  the  hoofs  of  his 
black  charger,  and  with  a  short  but  heavy  mace,  which  he 
caught  up  from  the  saddle-bow,  dealt  Hernando  so  thunder- 
ing a  blow  upon  the  helmet  that  the  giant  fell  to  the  ground 
stunned  and  senseless. 

To  dismount,  to  repossess  himself  of  his  shield,  to  resume 
his  sabre,  to  put  one  knee  to  the  breast  of  his  fallen  foe,  was 
the  work  of  a  moment;  and  then  had  Don  Hernando  del 
Pulgar  been  sped,  without  priest  or  surgeon,  but  that, 
alarmed  by  the  peril  of  their  most  valiant  comrade,  twenty 
knights  spurred  at  once  to  the  rescue,  and  the  points  of 
twenty  lances  kept  the  Lion  of  Granada  from  his  prey. 
Thither,  with  similar  speed,  rushed  the  Moorish  champions ; 
and  the  fight  became  close  and  deadly  round  the  body  of  the 
still  unconscious  Christian.  Not  an  instant  of  leisure  to 
unlace  the  helmet  of  Hernando,  by  removing  which,  alone, 
the  Moorish  blade  could  find  a  mortal  place,  was  permitted  to 
Muza ;  and  what  with  the  spears  and  trampling  hoofs  around 
him,  the  situation  of  the  Paynim  was  more  dangerous  than 
that  of  the  Christian.  Meanwhile,  Hernando  recovered  his 
dizzy  senses ;  and,  made  aware  of  his  state,  watched  his  occa- 


LEILA.  131 

sion  and  suddenly  shook  off  the  knee  of  the  Moor.  With 
another  effort  he  was  on  his  feet,  and  the  two  champions  stood 
confronting  each  other,  neither  very  eager  to  renew  the  com- 
bat. But  on  foot  Muza,  daring  and  rash  as  he  was,  could  not 
but  recognize  his  disadvantage  against  the  enormous  strength 
and  impenetrable  armour  of  the  Christian.  He  drew  back, 
whistled  to  his  barb,  that,  piercing  the  ranks  of  the  horsemen, 
was  by  his  side  on  the  instant,  remounted,  and  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  foe  almost  ere  the  slower  Spaniard  was  conscious 
of  his  disappearance. 

But  Hernando  was  not  delivered  from  his  enemy.  Clearing 
a  space  around  him,  as  three  knights,  mortally  wounded,  fell 
beneath  his  sabre,  Muza  now  drew  from  behind  his  shoulder 
his  short  Arabian  bow,  and  shaft  after  shaft  came  rattling 
upon  the  mail  of  the  dismounted  Christian  with  so  marvellous 
a  celerity  that,  encumbered  as  he  was  with  his  heavy  accoutre- 
ments, he  was  unable  either  to  escape  from  the  spot  or  ward 
off  that  arrowy  rain,  and  felt  that  nothing  but  chance  or  our 
Lady  could  prevent  the  death  which  one  such  arrow  would 
occasion,  if  it  should  find  the  opening  of  the  visor  or  the 
joints  of  the  hauberk. 

*' Mother  of  Mercy,"  groaned  the  knight,  perplexed  and 
enraged,  "let  not  thy  servant  be  shot  down  like  a  hart  by 
this  cowardly  warfare,  but  if  I  must  fall,  be  it  with  mine 
enemy,  grappling  hand  to  hand." 

While  yet  muttering  this  short  invocation,  the  war-cry  of 
Spain  was  heard  hard  by,  and  the  gallant  company  of  Villena 
was  seen  scouring  across  the  plain  to  the  succour  of  their 
comrades.  The  deadly  attention  of  Muza  was  distracted  from 
individual  foes,  however  eminent;  he  wheeled  round,  re-col- 
lected his  men,  and  in  a  serried  charge  met  the  new  enemy  in 
midway. 

While  the  contest  thus  fared  in  that  part  of  the  field,  the 
scheme  of  Ferdinand  had  succeeded  so  far  as  to  break  up  the 
battle  in  detached  sections.  Far  and  near,  plain,  grove,  gar- 
den, tower,  presented  each  the  scene  of  obstinate  and  deter- 
mined conflict.  Boabdil,  at  the  head  of  his  chosen  guard,  — 
the  flower  of  the  haughtier  tribe  of  nobles  who  were  jealous 


132  LEILA. 

of  the  fame  and  blood  of  the  tribe  of  Mnza,  —  and  followed 
also  by  his  gigantic  Ethiopians,  exposed  his  person  to  every 
peril  with  the  desperate  valour  of  a  man  who  feels  his  own 
stake  is  greatest  in  the  field.  As  he  most  distrusted  the 
infantry,  so  amongst  the  infantry  he  chiefly  bestowed  his 
presence;  and  wherever  he  appeared,  he  sufficed,  for  the 
moment,  to  turn  the  changes  of  the  engagement.  At  length, 
at  mid-day.  Ponce  de  Leon  led  against  the  largest  detachment 
of  the  Moorish  foot  a  strong  and  numerous  battalion  of  the 
best-disciplined  and  veteran  soldiery  of  Spain.  He  had  suc- 
ceeded in  winning  a  fortress  from  which  his  artillery  could 
play  with  effect ;  and  the  troops  he  led  were  composed  partly 
of  men  flushed  with  recent  triumph,  and  partly  of  a  fresh 
reserve,  now  first  brought  into  the  field.  A  comely  and  a 
breathless  spectacle  it  was  to  behold  this  Christian  squadron 
emerging  from  a  blazing  copse,  which  they  fired  on  their 
march,  the  red  light  gleaming  on  their  complete  armour  as, 
in  steady  and  solemn  order,  they  swept  on  to  the  swaying 
and  clamorous  ranks  of  the  Moorish  infantry.  Boabdil 
learned  the  danger  from  his  scouts;  and  hastily  quitting 
a  tower  from  which  he  had  for  a  while  repulsed  a  hostile 
legion,  he  threw  himself  into  the  midst  of  the  battalions 
menaced  by  the  skilful  Ponce  de  Leon.  Almost  at  the  same 
moment  the  wild  and  ominous  apparition  of  Almamen,  long 
absent  from  the  eyes  of  the  Moors,  appeared  in  the  same  quar- 
ter, so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  that  none  knew  whence  he 
had  emerged ;  the  sacred  standard  in  his  left  hand,  his  sabre, 
bared  and  dripping  gore,  in  his  right,  his  face  exposed,  and 
its  powerful  features  working  with  an  excitement  that  seemed 
inspired,  his  abrupt  presence  breathed  a  new  soul  into  the 
Moors. 

"  They  come,  they  come !  "  he  shrieked  aloud.  "  The  God 
of  the  East  hath  delivered  the  Goth  into  your  hands ! " 

Prom  rank  to  rank,  from  line  to  line,  sped  the  santon;  and 
as  the  mystic  banner  gleamed  before  the  soldiery,  each  closed 
his  eyes  and  muttered  an  "amen"  to  his  adjurations. 

And  now  to  the  cry  of  "Spain  and  Saint  lago"  came 
trampling  down  the  relentless  charge  of  the  Christian  war. 


LEILA.  133 

At  the  same  instant,  from  the  fortress  lately  taken  by  Ponce 
de  Leon  the  artillery  opened  upon  the  Moors  and  did  deadly 
havoc.  The  Moslems  wavered  a  moment  when  before  them 
gleamed  the  white  banner  of  Almamen;  and  they  beheld  him 
rushing,  alone  and  on  foot,  amidst  the  foe.  Taught  to  believe 
the  war  itself  depended  on  the  preservation  of  the  enchanted 
banner,  the  Paynims  could  not  see  it  thus  rashly  adventured 
without  anxiety  and  shame;  they  rallied,  advanced  firmly, 
and  Boabdil  himself,  with  waving  cimeter  and  fierce  exclama- 
tions, dashed  impetuouslj^  at  the  head  of  his  guards  and 
Ethiopians  into  the  affray.  The  battle  became  obstinate  and 
bloody.  Thrice  the  white  banner  disappeared  amidst  the 
closing  ranks,  and  thrice,  like  a  moon  from  the  clouds,  it 
shone  forth  again,  —  the  light  and  guide  of  the  Pagan  power. 

The  day  ripened,  and  the  hills  already  cast  lengthening 
shadows  over  the  blazing  groves  and  the  still  Darro,  whose 
waters,  in  every  creek  where  the  tide  was  arrested,  ran  red 
with  blood,  when  Ferdinand,  collecting  his  whole  reserve, 
descended  from  the  eminence  on  which  hitherto  he  had  posted 
himself.  With  him  moved  three  thousand  foot  and  a  thou- 
sand horse,  fresh  in  their  vigour,  and  panting  for  a  share  in 
that  glorious  day.  The  king  himself,  who,  though  constitu- 
tionally fearless,  from  motives  of  policy  rarely  perilled  his 
person  save  on  imminent  occasions,  was  resolved  not  to  be 
outdone  by  Boabdil;  and  armed  cap-a-pie  in  mail,  so  wrought 
with  gold  that  it  seemed  nearly  all  of  that  costly  metal,  with 
his  snow-white  plumage  waving  above  a  small  diadem  that 
surmounted  his  lofty  helm,  he  seemed  a  fit  leader  to  that 
armament  of  heroes.  Behind  him  flaunted  the  great  gonfalon 
of  Spain,  and  trump  and  cymbal  heralded  his  approach.  The 
Count  de  Tendilla  rode  by  his  side. 

"Senor,"  said  Ferdinand,  "the  infidels  fight  hard;  but  they 
are  in  the  snare,  —  we  are  about  to  close  the  nets  upon  them. 
But  what  cavalcade  is  this?" 

The  group  that  thus  drew  the  king's  attention  consisted  of 
six  squires,  bearing,  on  a  martial  litter  composed  of  shields, 
the  stalwart  form  of  Hernando  del  Pulgar. 

"  Ah,  the  dogs !  '^  cried  the  king,  as  he  recognized  the  pale 


134  LEILA. 

features  of  tlie  darling  of  the  army,  —  "  have  they  murdered 
the  bravest  knight  that  ever  fought  for  Christendom?  " 

"Not  that,  your  Majesty,"  quoth  he  of  the  Exploits,  faintly, 
"but  I  am  sorely  stricken." 

"It  must  have  been  more  than  man  who  struck  thee  down," 
said  the  king. 

"  It  was  the  mace  of  Muza  Ben  Abil  Gazan,  an  please  you, 
sire,"  said  one  of  the  squires;  "but  it  came  on  the  good  knight 
unawares,  and  long  after  his  own  arm  had  seemingly  driven 
away  the  Pagan." 

"We  will  avenge  thee  well,"  said  the  king,  setting  his 
teeth;  "let  our  own  leeches  tend  thy  wounds.  Forward,  sir 
knights !     Saint  lago  and  Spain ! " 

The  battle  had  now  gathered  to  a  vortex;  Muza  and  his 
cavalry  had  joined  Boabdil  and  the  Moorish  foot.  On  the 
other  hand,  Villena  had  been  reinforced  by  detachments  that 
in  almost  every  other  quarter  of  the  field  had  routed  the  foe. 
The  Moors  had  been  driven  back,  though  inch  by  inch;  they 
were  now  in  the  broad  space  before  the  very  walls  of  the  city, 
which  were  still  crowded  by  the  pale  and  anxious  faces  of  the 
aged  and  the  women;  and  at  every  pause  in  the  artillery, 
the  voices  that  spoke  of  home  were  borne  by  that  lurid  air 
to  the  ears  of  the  infidels.  The  shout  that  rang  through  the 
Christian  force  as  Ferdinand  now  joined  it  struck  like  a  death- 
knell  upon  the  last  hope  of  Boabdil.  But  the  blood  of  his 
fierce  ancestry  burned  in  his  veins,  and  the  cheering  voice  of 
Almamen,  whom  nothing  daunted,  inspired  him  with  a  kind 
of  superstitious  frenzy. 

"  King  against  king,  —  so  be  it !  Let  Allah  decide  between 
us!"  cried  the  Moorish  monarch.  "Bind  up  this  wound, — 
't  is.  well !  A  steed  for  the  santon !  Now,  my  prophet  and 
my  friend,  mount  by  the  side  of  thy  king;  let  us  at  least  fall 
together.     Lelilies !     Lelilies ! " 

Throughout  the  brave  Christian  ranks  went  a  thrill  of 
reluctant  admiration  as  they  beheld  the  Paynim  king,  con- 
spicuous by  his  fair  beard  and  the  jewels  of  his  harness,  lead 
the  scanty  guard  yet  left  to  him  once  more  into  the  thickest 
of  their  lines.     Simultaneously  Muza  and  his  Zegris  made 


LEILA.  135 

their  fiery  charge ;  and  the  Moorish  infantry,  excited  by  the 
example  of  their  leaders,  followed  with  unslackened  and 
dogged  zeal.  The  Christians  gave  way,  —  they  were  beaten 
back;  Ferdinand  spurred  forward;  and  ere  either  party  were 
well  aware  of  it,  both  kings  met  in  the  same  melee.  All 
order  and  discipline  for  the  moment  lost,  general  and  mon- 
arch were,  as  common  soldiers,  fighting  hand  to  hand.  It 
was  then  that  Ferdinand,  after  bearing  down  before  his  lance 
Nairn  Eeduon,  second  only  to  Muza  in  the  songs  of  Granada, 
beheld  opposed  to  him  a  strange  form  that  seemed  to  that 
royal  Christian  rather  fiend  than  man;  his  raven  hair  and 
beard,  clotted  with  blood,  hung  like  snakes  about  a  counte- 
nance whose  features,  naturally  formed  to  give  expression  to 
the  darkest  passions,  were  distorted  with  the  madness  of 
despairing  rage.  Wounded  in  many  places,  the  blood  dab- 
bled his  mail,  while  over  his  head  he  waved  the  banner 
wrought  with  mystic  characters,  which  Ferdinand  had  already 
been  taught  to  believe  the  workmanship  of  demons. 

"Now,  perjured  king  of  the  Nazarenes,"  shouted  this 
formidable  champion,  "we  meet  at  last,  no  longer  host  and 
guest,  monarch  and  dervise,  but  man  to  man!  I  am  Alma- 
men!     Die!" 

He  spoke;  and  his  sword  descended  so  fiercely  on  that 
anointed  head  that  Ferdinand  bent  to  his  saddle-bow.  But 
the  king  quickly  recovered  his  seat,  and  gallantly  met  the 
encounter :  it  was  one  that  might  have  tasked  to  the  utmost 
the  prowess  of  his  bravest  knight.  Passions  which  in  their 
number,  their  nature,  and  their  excess  animated  no  other 
champion  on  either  side,  gave  to  the  arm  of  Almamen  the 
Israelite  a  preternatural  strength;  his  blows  fell  like  rain 
upon  the  harness  of  the  king;  and  the  fiery  eyes,  the  gleam- 
ing banner  of  the  mysterious  sorcerer  who  had  eluded  the  tor- 
tures of  his  Inquisition,  who  had  walked  unscathed  through 
the  midst  of  his  army,  whose  single  hand  had  consumed  the 
encampment  of  a  host,  filled  the  stout  heart  of  the  king 
with  a  belief  that  he  encountered  no  earthly  foe.  Fortu- 
nately, perhaps,  for  Ferdinand  and  Spain,  the  contest  did  not 
last  long.     Twenty  horsemen  spurred  into  the  melee  to  the 


136  LEILA. 

rescue  of  the  plumed  diadem.  Tendilla  arrived  tlie  first; 
with,  a  stroke  of  his  two-handed  sword,  the  white  banner  was 
cleft  from  its  staff  and  fell  to  the  earth.  At  that  sight  the 
Moors  round  broke  forth  in  a  wild  and  despairing  cryj  that 
cry  spread  from  rank  to  rank,  from  horse  to  foot.  The 
Moorish  infantry,  sorely  pressed  on  all  sides,  no  sooner 
learned  the  disaster  than  they  turned  to  fly :  the  rout  was  as 
fatal  as  it  was  sudden.  The  Christian  reserve,  just  brought  into 
the  field,  poured  down  upon  them  with  a  simultaneous  charge. 
Boabdil,  too  much  engaged  to  be  the  first  to  learn  the  down- 
fall of  the  sacred  insignia,  suddenly  saw  himself  almost  alone, 
with  his  diminished  Ethiopians  and  a  handful  of  his  cavaliers. 

"  Yield  thee,  Boabdil  el  Chico  ! "  cried  Tendilla  from  his 
rear,  "or  thou  canst  not  be  saved." 

"By  the  Prophet,  never!"  exclaimed  the  king;  and  he 
dashed  his  barb  against  the  wall  of  spears  behind  him,  and 
with  but  a  score  or  so  of  his  guard  cut  his  way  through  the 
ranks  that  were  not  unwilling,  perhaps,  to  spare  so  brave  a 
foe.  As  he  cleared  the  Spanish  battalions,  the  unfortunate 
monarch  checked  his  horse  for  a  moment  and  gazed  along  the 
plain :  he  beheld  his  army  flying  in  all  directions,  save  in  that 
single  spot  where  yet  glittered  the  turban  of  Muza  Ben  Abil 
Gazan.  As  he  gazed,  he  heard  the  panting  nostrils  of  the 
chargers  behind,  and  saw  the  levelled  spears  of  a  company 
despatched  to  take  him,  alive  or  dead,  by  the  command  of 
Ferdinand.  He  laid  the  reins  upon  his  horse's  neck  and 
galloped  into  the  city:  three  lances  quivered  against  the 
portals  as  he  disappeared  through  the  shadows  of  the  arch. 
But  while  Muza  remained,  all  was  not  yet  lost;  he  perceived 
the  flight  of  the  infantry  and  the  king,  and  with  his  followers 
galloped  across  the  plain..  He  came  in  time  to  encounter  and 
slay,  to  a  man,  the  pursuers  of  Boabdil ;  he  then  threw  him- 
self before  the  flying  Moors. 

"Do  ye  fly  in  the  sight  of  your  wives  and  daughters? 
Would  ye  not  rather  they  beheld  you  die?" 

A  thousand  voices  answered  him:  "The  banner  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  infidel,  —  all  is  lost ! "  They  swept  by  him, 
and  stopped  not  till  they  gained  the  gates. 


LEILA.  137 

But  still  a  small  and  devoted  remnant  of  the  Moorish 
cavaliers  remained  to  shed  a  last  glory  over  defeat  itself. 
With  Muza,  their  soul  and  centre,  they  fought  every  atom  of 
ground;  it  was,  as  the  chronicler  expresses  it,  as  if  they 
grasped  the  soil  with  their  arms.  Twice  they  charged  into 
the  midst  of  the  foe ;  the  slaughter  they  made,  doubled  their 
own  number.  But  gathering  on  and  closing  in,  squadron 
upon  squadron,  came  the  whole  Christian  army;  they  were 
encompassed,  wearied  out,  beaten  back,  as  by  an  ocean.  Like 
wild  beasts  driven  at  length  to  their  lair,  they  retreated  with 
their  faces  to  the  foe ;  and  when  Muza  came,  the  last,  —  his 
cimeter  shivered  to  the  hilt,  —  he  had  scarcely  breath  to  com- 
mand the  gates  to  be  closed  and  the  portcullis  lowered,  ere  he 
fell  from  his  charger  in  a  sudden  and  deadly  swoon,  caused 
less  by  his  exhaustion  than  his  agony  and  shame.  So  ended 
the  last  battle  fought  for  the  Monarchy  of  Granada. 


I 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   NOVICE. 

It  was  in  one  of  the  cells  of  a  convent  renowned  for  the 
piety  of  its  inmates  and  the  wholesome  austerity  of  its  laws 
that  a  young  novice  sat  alone.  The  narrow  casement  was 
placed  so  high  in  the  cold  gray  wall  as  to  forbid  to  the  tenant 
of  the  cell  the  solace  of  sad  or  the  distraction  of  pious  thoughts, 
which  a  view  of  the  world  without  might  afford.  Lovely  in- 
deed was  the  landscape  that  spread  below,  but  it  was  barred 
from  those  youthful  and  melancholy  eyes;  for  Nature  might 
tempt  to  a  thousand  thoughts  not  of  a  tenor  calculated  to 
reconcile  the  heart  to  an  eternal  sacrifice  of  the  sweet  human 
ties.  But  a  faint  and  partial  gleam  of  sunshine  broke  through 
the  aperture,  and  made  yet  more  cheerless  the  dreary  aspect 
and  gloomy  appurtenances  of  the  cell ;  and  the  young  novice 
seemed  to  carry  on  within  herself  that  struggle  of  emotions 


138  LEILA. 

without  which  there  is  no  victory  in  the  resolves  of  virtue. 
Sometimes  she  wept  bitterly,  but  with  a  low,  subdued  sorrow 
which  spoke  rather  of  despondency  than  passion;  sometimes 
she  raised  her  head  from  her  breast  and  smiled  as  she  looked 
upward,  or  as  her  eyes  rested  on  the  crucifix  and  the  death's 
head  that  were  placed  on  the  rude  table  by  the  pallet  on 
which  she  sat.  They  were  emblems  of  death  here,  and  life 
hereafter,  which  perhaps  afforded  to  her  the  sources  of  a  two- 
fold consolation. 

She  was  yet  musing  when  a  slight  tap  at  the  door  was 
heard,  and  the  abbess  of  the  convent  appeared. 

"Daughter,"  said  she,  "I  have  brought  thee  the  comfort  of 
a  sacred  visitor.  The  Queen  of  Spain,  whose  pious  tender- 
ness is  maternally  anxious  for  thy  full  contentment  with  thy 
lot,  has  sent  hither  a  holy  friar  whom  she  deems  more  sooth- 
ing in  his  counsels  than  our  brother  Tomas,  whose  ardent  zeal 
often  terrifies  those  whom  his  honest  spirit  only  desires  to 
purify  and  guide.  I  will  leave  him  with  thee.  May  the 
saints  bless  his  ministry!"  So  saying,  the  abbess  retired 
from  the  threshold,  making  way  for  a  form  in  the  garb  of  a 
monk,  with  the  hood  drawn  over  the  face.  The  monk  bowed 
his  head  meekly,  advanced  into  the  cell,  closed  the  door,  and 
seated  himself  on  a  stool  which,  save  the  table  and  the  pallet, 
seemed  the  sole  furniture  of  the  dismal  chamber. 

"Daughter,"  said  he,  after  a  pause,  "it  is  a  rugged  and  a 
mournful  lot,  this  renunciation  of  earth  and  all  its  fair  des- 
tinies and  soft  affections,  to  one  not  wholly  prepared  and 
armed  for  the  sacrifice.  Confide  in  me,  my  child;  I  am  no 
dire  Inquisitor,  seeking  to  distort  thy  words  to  thine  own 
peril.  I  am  no  bitter  and  morose  ascetic.  Beneath  these 
robes  still  beats  a  human  heart  that  can  sympathize  with 
human  sorrows.  Confide  in  me  without  fear.  Dost  thou  not 
dread  the  fate  they  would  force  upon  thee?  Dost  thou  not 
shrink  back?     Wouldst  thou  not  be  free?  " 

"No,"  said  the  poor  novice;  but  the  denial  came  faint  and 
irresolute  from  her  lips. 

"Pause,"  said  the  friar,  growing  more  earnest  in  his  tone; 
"pause,  — there  is  yet  time." 


LEILA.  139 

"Nay,"  said  the  novice,  looking  up  with  some  surprise  in 
her  countenance,  — "  nay,  even  were  I  so  weak,  escape  now 
is  impossible.  What  hand  could  unbar  the  gates  of  the 
convent?  " 

"  Mine ! "  cried  the  monk,  with  impetuosity.  "  Yes,  I  have 
that  power.  In  all  Spain,  but  one  man  can  save  thee,  and  I 
am  he." 

"You!"  faltered  the  novice,  gazing  at  her  strange  visitor 
with  mingled  astonishment  and  alarm.  "And  who  are  you 
that  could  resist  the  fiat  of  that  Tomas  de  Torquemada  before 
whom,  they  tell  me,  even  the  crowned  heads  of  Castile  and 
Arragon  veil  low  ?  " 

The  monk  half  rose,  with  an  impatient  and  almost  haughty 
start,  at  this  interrogatory ;  but  reseating  himself,  replied,  in 
a  deep  and  half -whispered  voice:  "Daughter,  listen  to  me! 
It  is  true  that  Isabel  of  Spain  (whom  the  Mother  of  Mercy 
bless;  for  merciful  to  all  is  her  secret  heart,  if  not  her  out- 
ward policy),  —  it  is  true  that  Isabel  of  Spain,  fearful  that  the 
path  to  heaven  might  be  made  rougher  to  thy  feet  than  it  well 
need  be  [there  was  a  slight  accent  of  irony  in  the  monk's 
voice  as  he  thus  spoke],  selected  a  friar  of  suasive  eloquence 
and  gentle  manners  to  visit  thee.  He  was  charged  with  let- 
ters to  yon  abbess  from  the  queen.  Soft  though  the  friar,  he 
was  yet  a  hypocrite.  —  Nay,  hear  me  out !  —  He  loved  to  wor- 
ship the  rising  sun;  and  he  did  not  wish  always  to  remain  a 
simple  friar,  while  the  Church  had  higher  dignities  of  this 
earth  to  bestow.  In  the  Christian  camp,  daughter,  there  was 
one  who  burned  for  tidings  of  thee,  —  whom  thine  image 
haunted;  who,  stern  as  thou  wert  to  him,  loved  thee  with  a 
love  he  knew  not  of,  till  thou  wert  lost  to  him.  Why  dost 
thou  tremble,  daughter?  Listen,  yet  I  To  that  lover  —  for  he 
was  one  of  high  birth  —  came  the  monk;  to  that  lover  the 
monk  sold  his  mission.  The  monk  will  have  a  ready  tale, 
that  he  was  waylaid  amidst  the  mountains  by  armed  men,  and 
robbed  of  his  letters  to  the  abbess.  The  lover  took  his  garb, 
and  he  took  the  letters,  and  he  hastened  hither.  Leila,  be- 
loved Leila,  behold  him  at  thy  feet ! " 

The  monk  raised  his  cowl,  and  dropping  on  his  knee  be- 


140  LEILA. 

side  her,  presented  to  her  gaze  the  features  of  the  Prince  of 
Spain. 

"  You ! "  said  Leila,  averting  her  countenance,  and  vainly 
endeavouring  to  extricate  the  hand  which  he  had  seized. 
"  This  is  indeed  cruel.  You,  the  author  of  so  many  suffer- 
ings, such  calumny,  such  reproach ! " 

"I  will  repair  all,"  said  Don  Juan,  fervently.  "I  alone  — 
I  repeat  it  —  have  the  power  to  set  you  free.  You  are  no 
longer  a  Jewess,  — you  are  one  of  our  faith  j  there  is  now  no 
bar  upon  our  loves.  Imperious  though  my  father,  all  dark 
and  dread  as  is  this  new  power  which  he  is  rashly  erecting 
in  his  dominions,  the  heir  of  two  monarchies  is  not  so  poor  in 
influence  and  in  friends  as  to  be  unable  to  offer  the  woman  of 
his  love  an  inviolable  shelter  alike  from  priest  and  despot. 
Fly  with  me;  quit  this  dreary  sepulchre  ere  the  last  stone 
close  over  thee  forever!  I  have  horses,  I  have  guards  at 
hand.  This  night  it  can  be  arranged.  This  night  —  oh, 
bliss !  —  thou  mayest  be  rendered  up  to  earth  and  love ! " 

"Prince,"  said  Leila,  who  had  drawn  herself  from  Juan's 
grasp  during  this  address,  and  who  now  stood  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, erect  and  proud,  "you  tempt  me  in  vain;  or,  rather, 
you  offer  me  no  temptation.  I  have  made  my  choice,  —  I 
abide  by  it." 

"Oh,  bethink  thee,"  said  the  prince,  in  a  voice  of  real  and 
imploring  anguish,  —  "  bethink  thee  well  of  the  consequences 
of  thy  refusal!  Thou  canst  not  see  them  yet;  thine  ardour 
blinds  thee.  But  when  hour  after  hour,  day  after  day,  year 
after  year,  steals  on  in  the  appalling  monotony  of  this  sancti- 
fied prison;  when  thou  shalt  see  thy  youth  withering  without 
love,  thine  age  without  honour;  when  thy  heart  shall  grow  as 
stone  within  thee,  beneath  the  looks  of  yon  icy  spectres ;  when 
nothing  shall  vary  the  aching  dulness  of  wasted  life  save  a 
longer  fast  or  a  severer  penance,  —  then,  then  will  thy  grief 
be  rendered  tenfold  by  the  despairing  and  remorseful  thought 
that  thine  own  lips  sealed  thine  own  sentence.  Thou  mayest 
think,"  continued  Juan,  with  rapid  eagerness,  "that  my  love 
to  thee  was  at  first  light  and  dishonouring.  Be  it  so.  I  own 
that  my  youth  has  passed  in  idle  wooings  and  the  mockeries 


LEILA.  141 

of  affection.  But  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  feel  tliat  / 
love.  Thy  dark  eyes,  thy  noble  beauty,  even  thy  womanly 
scorn,  have  fascinated  me.  I  —  never  yet  disdained  where  I 
have  been  a  suitor  —  acknowledge  at  last  that  there  is  a  tri- 
umph in  the  conquest  of  a  woman^s  heart.  Oh,  Leila !  do  not, 
do  not  reject  me.  You  know  not  how  rare  and  how  deep  a 
love  you  cast  away." 

The  novice  was  touched.  The  present  language  of  Don 
Juan  was  so  different  from  what  it  had  been  before ;  the  earn- 
est love  that  breathed  in  his  voice,  that  looked  from  his  eyes, 
struck  a  chord  in  her  breast,  —  it  reminded  her  of  her  own 
unconquered,  unconquerable  love  for  the  lost  Muza.  She  was 
touched,  then,  —  touched  to  tears ;  but  her  resolves  were  not 
shaken. 

"Oh,  Leila!"  resumed  the  prince,  fondly,  mistaking  the 
nature  of  her  emotion,  and  seeking  to  pursue  the  advantage 
he  imagined  he  had  gained,  "  look  at  yonder  sunbeam,  strug- 
gling through  the  loophole  of  thy  cell.  Is  it  not  a  messenger 
from  the  happy  world?  Does  it  not  plead  for  me?  Does  it 
not  whisper  to  thee  of  the  green  fields,  and  the  laughing  vine- 
yards, and  all  the  beautiful  prodigality  of  that  earth  thou  art 
about  to  renounce  forever?  Dost  thou  dread  my  love?  Are 
the  forms  around  thee,  ascetic  and  lifeless,  fairer  to  thine  eyes 
than  mine?  Dost  thou  doubt  my  power  to  protect  thee?  I 
tell  thee  that  the  proudest  nobles  of  Spain  would  flock  around 
my  banner,  were  it  necessary  to  guard  thee  by  force  of  arms. 
Yet,  speak  the  word,  be  mine,  and  I  will  fly  hence  with  thee 
to  climes  where  the  Church  has  not  cast  out  its  deadly  roots, 
and,  forgetful  of  crowns  and  cares,  live  alone  for  thee.  Ah, 
speak ! " 

"My  lord,"  said  Leila,  calmly,  and  rousing  herself  to  the 
necessary  effort,  "  I  am  deeply  and  sincerely  grateful  for  the 
interest  you  express,  for  the  affection  you  avow.  But  you 
deceive  yourself.  I  have  pondered  well  over  the  alternative 
I  have  taken.  I  do  not  regret  nor  repent,  much  less  would  I 
retract  it.  The  earth  that  you  speak  of,  full  of  affections 
and  of  bliss  to  others,  has  no  ties,  no  allurements  for  me.  I 
desire  only  peace,  repose,  and  an  early  death." 


142  LEILA. 

"Can  it  be  possible,"  said  the  prince,  growing  pale,  "that 
thou  lovest  another?  Then,  indeed,  and  then  only  would  my 
wooing  be  in  vain." 

The  cheek  of  the  novice  grew  deeply  flushed,  but  the  colour 
soon  subsided.  She  murmured  to  herself,  "Why  should  I 
blush  to  own  it  now?"  and  then  spoke  aloud:  "Prince, 
I  trust  I  have  done  with  the  world;  and  bitter  the  pang  I 
feel  when  you  call  me  back  to  it.  But  you  merit  my  candour : 
I  have  loved  another;  and  in  that  thought,  as  in  an  urn,  lie 
the  ashes  of  all  affection.  That  other  is  of  a  different  faith. 
We  may  never,  never  meet  again  below;  but  it  is  a  solace  to 
pray  that  we  may  meet  above.  That  solace  and  these  clois- 
ters are  dearer  to  me  than  all  the  pomp,  all  the  pleasures,  of 
the  world." 

The  prince  sank  down,  and  covering  his  face  with  his  hands, 
groaned  aloud,  but  made  no  reply. 

"Go,  then,  Prince  of  Spain,"  continued  the  novice;  "son 
of  the  noble  Isabel,  Leila  is  not  unworthy  of  her  cares.  Go, 
and  pursue  the  great  destinies  that  await  you.  And  if  you 
forgive  —  if  you  still  cherish  a  thought  of  —  the  poor  Jewish 
maiden,  soften,  alleviate,  mitigate,  the  wretched  and  desper- 
ate doom  that  awaits  the  fallen  race  she  has  abandoned  for 
thy  creed." 

"  Alas,  alas ! "  said  the  prince,  mournfully,  "  thee  alone, 
perchance,  of  all  thy  race  I  could  have  saved  from  the  bigotry 
that  is  fast  covering  this  knightly  land  like  the  rising  of  an 
irresistible  sea,  —  and  thou  rejectest  me !  Take  time,  at  least, 
to  pause,  to  consider.     Let  me  see  thee  again  to- morrow." 

"No,  prince,  no;  not  again !  I  will  keep  thy  secret  only  if 
I  see  thee  no  more.  If  thou  persist  in  a  suit  that  I  feel  to  be 
that  of  sin  and  shame,  then,  indeed,  mine  honour  — " 

"  Hold ! "  interrupted  Juan,  with  haughty  impatience,  — 
"I  torment,  I  harass  you  no  more.  I  release  you  from  my 
importunity.  Perhaps  already  I  have  stooped  too  low."  He 
drew  the  cowl  over  his  features  and  strode  sullenly  to  the 
door;  but  turning  for  one  last  gaze  on  the  form  that  had  so 
strangely  fascinated  a  heart  capable  of  generous  emotions,  — 
the  meek  and  despondent  posture  of  the  novice,  her  tender 


LEILA.  143 

youth,  her  gloomy  fate,  melted  his  momentary  pride  and 
resentment.  "  God  bless  and  reconcile  thee,  poor  child ! "  he 
said,  in  a  voice  choked  with  contending  passions;  and  the 
door  closed  upon  his  form. 

"  I  thank  thee.  Heaven,  that  it  was  not  Muza ! "  muttered 
Leila,  breaking  from  a  revery  in  which  she  seemed  to  be 
communing  with  her  own  soul;  "I  feel  that  I  could  not  have 
resisted  him.^^  With  that  thought  she  knelt  down,  in  humble 
and  penitent  self-reproach,  and  prayed  for  strength. 

Ere  she  had  risen  from  her  supplications,  her  solitude  was 
again  invaded  by  Torquemada,  the  Dominican. 

This  strange  man,  though  the  author  of  cruelties  at  which 
nature  recoils,  had  some  veins  of  warm  and  gentle  feeling 
streaking,  as  it  were,  the  marble  of  his  hard  character ;  and 
when  he  had  thoroughly  convinced  himself  of  the  pure  and 
earnest  zeal  of  the  young  convert,  he  relaxed  from  the  grim 
sternness  he  had  at  first  exhibited  towards  her.  He  loved  to 
exert  the  eloquence  he  possessed,  in  raising  her  spirit,  in 
reconciling  her  doubts.  He  prayed  for  her,  and  he  prayed 
beside  her,  with  passion  and  with  tears. 

He  stayed  long  with  the  novice,  and  when  he  left  her,  she 
was,  if  not  happy,  at  least  contented.  Her  warmest  wish 
now  was  to  abridge  the  period  of  her  novitiate,  which,  at  her 
desire,  the  Church  had  already  rendered  merely  a  nominal 
probation.  She  longed  to  put  irresolution  out  of  her  power, 
and  to  enter  at  once  upon  the  narrow  road  through  the  strait 
gate. 

The  gentle  and  modest  piety  of  the  young  novice  touched 
the  sisterhood;  she  was  endeared  to  all  of  them.  Her  con- 
version was  an  event  that  broke  the  lethargy  of  their  stagnant 
life.  She  became  an  object  of  general  interest,  of  avowed 
pride,  of  kindly  compassion ;  and  their  kindness  to  her,  who 
from  her  cradle  had  seen  little  of  her  own  sex,  had  a  great 
effect  towards  calming  and  soothing  her  mind.  But  at  night 
her  dreams  brought  before  her  the  dark  and  menacing  counte- 
nance of  her  father.  Sometimes  he  seemed  to  pluck  her  from 
the  gates  of  heaven,  and  to  sink  with  her  into  the  yawning 
abyss  below.     Sometimes  she  saw  him  with  her  beside  the 


146  LEILA. 

miserable  outcasts  fled  to  whatever  secret  places  tlie  vaults  of 
their  houses  or  the  caverns  in  the  hills  within  the  city  could 
yet  afford  them,  cursing  their  fate,  and  almost  longing  even 
for  the  yoke  of  the  Christian  bigots. 

Thus  passed  several  daysj  the  defence  of  the  city  was 
abandoned  to  its  naked  walls  and  mighty  gates.  The  glaring 
sun  looked  down  upon  closed  shops  and  depopulated  streets, 
save  when  some  ghostly  and  skeleton  band  of  the  famished 
poor  collected,  in  a  sudden  paroxysm  of  revenge  or  despair, 
around  the  stormed  and  fired  mansion  of  a  detested  Israelite. 

At  length  Boabdil  aroused  himself  from  his  seclusion,  and 
Muza,  to  his  own  surprise,  was  summoned  to  the  presence  of 
the  king.  He  found  Boabdil  in  one  of  the  most  gorgeous 
halls  of  his  gorgeous  palace. 

Within  the  Tower  of  Comares  is  a  vast  chamber,  still  called 
the  Hall  of  the  Ambassadors.  Here  it  was  that  Boabdil  now 
held  his  court.  On  the  glowing  walls  hung  trophies  and 
banners,  and  here  and  there  an  Arabian  portrait  of  some 
bearded  king.  By  the  windows,  which  overlooked  the  most 
lovely  banks  of  the  Darro,  gathered  the  santons  and  alfaquis, 
a  little  apart  from  the  main  crowd.  Beyond,  through  half- 
veiling  draperies,  might  be  seen  the  great  court  of  the 
Alberca,  whose  peristyles  were  hung  with  flowers;  while  in 
the  centre,  the  gigantic  basin,  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
court,  caught  the  sunlight  obliquely,  and  its  waves  glittered 
on  the  eye  from  amidst  the  roses  that  then  clustered  over  it. 

In  the  audience  hall  itself,  a  canopy,  over  the  royal 
cushions  on  which  Boabdil  reclined,  was  blazoned  with  the 
heraldic  insignia  of  Granada's  monarchs.  His  guard  and  his 
mutes  and  his  eunuchs  and  his  courtiers  and  his  counsellors 
and  his  captains  were  ranged  in  long  files  on  either  side  the 
canopy.  It  seemed  the  last  flicker  of  the  lamp  of  the  Moorish 
empire,  that  hollow  and  unreal  pomp !  As  Muza  approached 
the  monarch,  he  was  startled  by  the  change  of  his  counte- 
nance: the  young  and  beautiful  Boabdil  seemed  to  have 
grown  suddenly  old;  his  eyes  were  sunken,  his  countenance 
was  sown  with  wrinkles,  and  his  voice  sounded  broken  and 
hollow  on  the  ears  of  his  kinsman. 


LEILA,  145 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  PAUSE  BETWEEN  DEFEAT  AND  SURRENDEB. 

The  unfortunate  Boabdil  plunged  once  more  amidst  the 
recesses  of  the  Alhambra.  Whatever  his  anguish  or  his 
despondency,  none  were  permitted  to  share,  or  even  to  wit- 
ness, his  emotions.  But  he  especially  resisted  the  admission 
to  his  solitude,  demanded  by  his  mother,  implored  by  his 
faithful  Amine,  and  sorrowfully  urged  by  Muza;  those  most 
loved  or  most  respected  were,  above  all,  the  persons  from 
whom  he  most  shrank. 

Almamen  was  heard  of  no  more.  It  was  believed  that  he 
had  perished  in  the  battle.  But  he  was  one  of  those  who, 
precisely  as  they  are  effective  when  present,  are  forgotten  in 
absence.  And  in  the  mean  while,  as  the  Vega  was  utterly 
desolated,  and  all  supplies  were  cut  off,  famine,  daily  made 
more  terrifically  severe,  diverted  the  attention  of  each  hum- 
bler Moor  from  the  fall  of  the  city  to  his  individual  sufferings. 

New  persecutions  fell  upon  the  miserable  Jews.  Not  having 
taken  any  share  in  the  conflict  (as  was  to  be  expected  from 
men  who  had  no  stake  in  the  country  which  they  dwelt  in, 
and  whose  brethren  had  been  taught  so  severe  a  lesson  upon 
the  folly  of  interference),  no  sentiment  of  fellowship  in  dan- 
ger mitigated  the  hatred  and  loathing  with  which  they  were 
held;  and  as,  in  their  lust  of  gain,  many  of  them  continued, 
amidst  the  agony  and  starvation  of  the  citizens,  to  sell  food 
at  enormous  prices,  the  excitement  of  the  multitude  against 
them  —  released  by  the  state  of  the  city  from  all  restraint  and 
law  —  made  itself  felt  by  the  most  barbarous  excesses.  Many 
of  the  houses  of  the  Israelites  were  attacked  by  the  mob,  plun- 
dered, razed  to  the  ground,  and  the  owners  tortured  to  death, 
to  extort  confession  of  imaginary  wealth.  Not  to  sell  what 
was  demanded  was  a  crime  j  to  sell  it  was  a  crime  also.    These 

10 


146  LEILA. 

miserable  outcasts  fled  to  whatever  secret  places  the  vaults  of 
their  houses  or  the  caverns  in  the  hills  within  the  city  could 
yet  afford  them,  cursing  their  fate,  and  almost  longing  even 
for  the  yoke  of  the  Christian  bigots. 

Thus  passed  several  days;  the  defence  of  the  city  was 
abandoned  to  its  naked  walls  and  mighty  gates.  The  glaring 
sun  looked  down  upon  closed  shops  and  depopulated  streets, 
save  when  some  ghostly  and  skeleton  band  of  the  famished 
poor  collected,  in  a  sudden  paroxysm  of  revenge  or  despair, 
around  the  stormed  and  fired  mansion  of  a  detested  Israelite. 

At  length  Boabdil  aroused  himself  from  his  seclusion,  and 
Muza,  to  his  own  surprise,  was  summoned  to  the  presence  of 
the  king.  He  found  Boabdil  in  one  of  the  most  gorgeous 
halls  of  his  gorgeous  palace. 

Within  the  Tower  of  Comares  is  a  vast  chamber,  still  called 
the  Hall  of  the  Ambassadors.  Here  it  was  that  Boabdil  now 
held  his  court.  On  the  glowing  walls  hung  trophies  and 
banners,  and  here  and  there  an  Arabian  portrait  of  some 
bearded  king.  By  the  windows,  which  overlooked  the  most 
lovely  banks  of  the  Darro,  gathered  the  santons  and  alfaquis, 
a  little  apart  from  the  main  crowd.  Beyond,  through  half- 
veiling  draperies,  might  be  seen  the  great  court  of  the 
Alberca,  whose  peristyles  were  hung  with  flowers;  while  in 
the  centre,  the  gigantic  basin,  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
court,  caught  the  sunlight  obliquely,  and  its  waves  glittered 
on  the  eye  from  amidst  the  roses  that  then  clustered  over  it. 

In  the  audience  hall  itself,  a  canopy,  over  the  royal 
cushions  on  which  Boabdil  reclined,  was  blazoned  with  the 
heraldic  insignia  of  Granada's  monarchs.  His  guard  and  his 
mutes  and  his  eunuchs  and  his  courtiers  and  his  counsellors 
and  his  captains  were  ranged  in  long  files  on  either  side  the 
canopy.  It  seemed  the  last  flicker  of  the  lamp  of  the  Moorish 
empire,  that  hollow  and  unreal  pomp !  As  Muza  approached 
the  monarch,  he  was  startled  by  the  change  of  his  counte- 
nance: the  young  and  beautiful  Boabdil  seemed  to  have 
grown  suddenly  old;  his  eyes  were  sunken,  his  countenance 
was  sown  with  wrinkles,  and  his  voice  sounded  broken  and 
hollow  on  the  ears  of  his  kinsman. 


LEILA.  147 

"Come  hither,  Muza,"  said  he;  "seat  thyself  beside  me 
and  listen  as  thou  best  canst  to  the  tidings  we  are  about  to 
hear." 

As  Muza  placed  himself  on  a  cushion  a  little  below  the 
king,  Boabdil  motioned  to  one  amongst  the  crowd. 

"Hamet,"  said  he,  "thou  hast  examined  the  state  of  the 
Christian  camp:  what  news  dost  thou  bring?" 

"Light  of  the  Faithful,"  answered  the  Moor,  "it  is  a  camp 
no  longer,  —  it  has  already  become  a  city.  Nine  towns  of 
Spain  were  charged  with  the  task.  Stone  has  taken  the  place 
of  canvas;  towers  and  streets  arise  like  the  buildings  of  a 
genius ;  and  the  misbelieving  king  hath  sworn  that  this  new 
city  shall  not  be  left  until  Granada  sees  his  standard  on  its 
walls." 

"Go  on,"  said  Boabdil,  calmly. 

"  Traders  and  men  of  merchandise  flock  thither  daily ;  the 
spot  is  one  bazaar;  all  that  should  supply  our  famishing 
country  pours  its  plenty  into  their  mart." 

Boabdil  motioned  to  the  Moor  to  withdraw,  and  an  alfaqui 
advanced  in  his  stead. 

"  Successor  of  the  Prophet  and  darling  of  the  world ! "  said 
the  reverend  man,  "the  alfaquis  and  seers  of  Granada  implore 
thee  on  their  knees  to  listen  to  their  voice.  They  have  con- 
sulted the  Books  of  Fate ;  they  have  implored  a  sign  from  the 
Prophet;  and  they  find  that  the  glory  has  left  thy  people  and 
thy  crown.  The  fall  of  Granada  is  predestined.  God  is 
great ! " 

"You  shall  have  my  answer  forthwith,"  said  Boabdil. 
"  Abdelmelic,  approach. " 

From  the  crowd  came  an  aged  and  white-bearded  man,  the 
governor  of  the  city. 

"  Speak,  old  man, "  said  the  king. 

"Oh,  Boabdil!"  said  the  veteran,  with  faltering  tones, 
while  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  "son  of  a  race  of 
kings  and  heroes !  would  that  thy  servant  had  fallen  dead  on 
thy  threshold  this  day,  and  that  the  lips  of  a  Moorish  noble 
had  never  been  polluted  by  the  words  that  I  now  utter !  Our 
state  is  hopeless;  our  granaries  are  as  the  sands  of  the  desert; 


148  LEILA. 

there  is  in  them  life  neither  for  beast  nor  man.  The  war- 
horse  that  bore  the  hero  is  now  consumed  for  his  food;  the 
population  of  thy  city  with  one  voice  cry  for  chains  and  — 
bread!    I  have  spoken." 

"Admit  the  ambassador  of  Egypt,"  said  Boabdil,  as  Abdel- 
melic  retired.  There  was  a  pause.  One  of  the  draperies  at 
the  end  of  the  hall  was  drawn  aside,  and  with  the  slow  and 
sedate  majesty  of  their  tribe  and  land,  paced  forth  a  dark  and 
swarthy  train,  the  envoys  of  the  Egyptian  soldan.  Six  of  the 
band  bore  costly  presents  of  gems  and  weapons,  and  the  pro- 
cession closed  with  four  veiled  slaves,  whose  beauty  had  been 
the  boast  of  the  ancient  valley  of  the  Nile. 

"Sun  of  Granada  and  day-star  of  the  faithful,"  said  the 
chief  of  the  Egyptians,  "my  lord,  the  soldan  of  Egypt, 
delight  of  the  world  and  rose-tree  of  the  East,  thus  answers 
to  the  letters  of  Boabdil.  He  grieves  that  he  cannot  send  the 
succour  thou  demandest;  and  informing  himself  of  the  condi- 
tion of  thy  territories,  he  finds  that  Granada  no  longer  holds 
a  seaport  by  which  his  forces  (could  he  send  them)  might  find 
an  entrance  into  Spain.  He  implores  thee  to  put  thy  trust  in 
Allah,  who  will  not  desert  his  chosen  ones,  and  lays  these 
gifts,  in  pledge  of  amity  and  love,  at  the  feet  of  my  lord  the 
king." 

"It  is  a  gracious  and  well-timed  offering,"  said  Boabdil, 
with  a  writhing  lip;  "we  thank  him." 

There  was  now  a  long  and  dead  silence  as  the  ambassadors 
swept  from  the  hall  of  audience,  when  Boabdil  suddenly  raised 
his  head  from  his  breast  and  looked  around  his  hall  with  a 
kingly  and  majestic  look.  "  Let  the  heralds  of  Ferdinand  of 
Spain  approach." 

A  groan  involuntarily  broke  from  the  breast  of  Muza.  It 
was  echoed  by  a  murmur  of  abhorrence  and  despair  from  the 
gallant  captains  who  stood  around;  but  to  that  momentary 
burst  succeeded  a  breathless  silence  as  from  another  drapery, 
opposite  the  royal  couch,  gleamed  the  burnished  mail  of  the 
knights  of  Spain.  Foremost  of  these  haughty  visitors,  whose 
iron  heels  clanked  loudly  on  the  tessellated  floor,  came  a  noble 
and  stately  form  in  full  armour,  save  the  helmet,  and  with  a 


LEILA.  149 

mantle  of  azure  velvet,  wrought  witli  tlie  silver  cross  tliat 
made  the  badge  of  the  Christian  war.  Upon  his  manly  coun- 
tenance was  visible  no  sign  of  undue  arrogance  or  exultation, 
but  something  of  that  generous  pity  which  brave  men  feel  for 
conquered  foes  dimmed  the  lustre  of  his  commanding  eye,  and 
softened  the  wonted  sternness  of  his  martial  bearing.  He 
and  his  train  approached  the  king  with  a  profound  salutation 
of  respect;  and  falling  back,  motioned  to  the  herald  that 
accompanied  him,  and  whose  garb,  breast  and  back,  was 
wrought  with  the  arms  of  Spain,  to  deliver  himself  of  his 
mission. 

"To  Boabdil,"  said  the  herald,  with  a  loud  voice,  that  filled 
the  whole  expanse  and  thrilled  with  various  emotions  the 
dumb  assembly, —  "to  Boabdil  el  Chico,  king  of  Granada,  Fer- 
dinand of  Arragon  and  Isabel  of  Castile  send  royal  greeting. 
They  command  me  to  express  their  hope  that  the  war  is  at 
length  concluded,  and  they  offer  to  the  king  of  Granada  such 
terms  of  capitulation  as  a  king,  without  dishonour,  may  re- 
ceive. In  the  stead  of  this  city,  which  their  Most  Christian 
Majesties  will  restore  to  their  own  dominion,  as  is  just,  they 
offer,  O  king,  princely  territories  in  the  Alpuxarras  mountains 
to  your  sway,  holding  them  by  oath  of  fealty  to  the  Spanish 
crown.  To  the  people  of  Granada  their  Most  Christian  Maj- 
esties promise  full  protection  of  property,  life,  and  faith, 
under  a  government  by  their  own  magistrates  and  according 
to  their  own  laws,  exemption  from  tribute  for  three  years, 
and  taxes  thereafter,  regulated  by  the  custom  and  ratio  of 
their  present  imposts.  To  such  Moors  as,  discontented  with 
these  provisions,  would  abandon  Granada,  are  promised  free 
passage  for  themselves  and  their  wealth.  In  return  for  these 
marks  of  their  royal  bounty,  their  Most  Christian  Majesties 
summon  Granada  to  surrender  (if  no  succour  meanwhile 
arrive)  within  seventy  days.  And  these  offers  are  now  sol- 
emnly recorded  in  the  presence  and  through  the  mission  of 
the  noble  and  renowned  knight,  Gonzalvo  of  Cordova,  deputed 
by  their  Most  Christian  Majesties  from  their  new  city  of 
Santa  F^." 

When  the  herald  had  concluded,  Boabdil  cast  his  eye  over 


150  LEILA. 

his  thronged  and  splendid  court.  No  glance  of  fire  met  his 
own;  amidst  the  silent  crowd  a  resigned  content  was  alone  to 
be  perceived :  the  proposals  exceeded  the  hope  of  the  besieged. 

"And,"  asked  Boabdil,  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh,  "if  we 
reject  these  offers?" 

"Noble  prince,"  said  Gonzalvo,  earnestly,  "ask  us  not  to 
wound  thine  ears  with  the  alternative.  Pause,  and  consider 
of  our  offers ;  and  if  thou  doubtest,  0  brave  king !  mount  the 
towers  of  thine  Alhambra,  survey  our  legions  marshalled 
beneath  thy  walls,  and  turn  thine  eyes  upon  a  brave  people, 
defeated,  not  by  human  valour,  but  by  famine  and  the  inscru- 
table will  of  God." 

"Your  monarchs  shall  have  our  answer,  gentle  Christian, 
perchance  ere  nightfall.  And  you.  Sir  Knight,  who  hast 
delivered  a  message  bitter  for  kings  to  hear,  receive  at  least 
our  thanks  for  such  bearing  as  might  best  mitigate  the  import. 
Our  vizier  will  bear  to  your  apartment  those  tokens  of  remem- 
brance that  are  yet  left  to  the  monarch  of  Granada  to  bestow." 

"Muza,"  resumed  the  king,  as  the  Spaniards  left  the  pres- 
ence, "thou  hast  heard  all.  What  is  the  last  counsel  thou 
canst  give  thy  sovereign?" 

The  fierce  Moor  had  with  difficulty  waited  this  license  to 
utter  such  sentiments  as  death  only  could  banish  from  that 
unconquerable  heart.  He  rose,  descended  from  the  couch, 
and  standing  a  little  below  the  king,  and  facing  the  motley 
throng  of  all  of  wise  or  brave  yet  left  to  Granada,  thus 
spoke :  — 

"Why  should  we  surrender?  Two  hundred  thousand  in- 
habitants are  yet  within  our  walls;  of  these,  twenty  thou- 
sand, at  least,  are  Moors,  who  have  hands  and  swords.  Why 
should  we  surrender?  Famine  presses  us,  it  is  true;  but  hun- 
ger, that  makes  the  lion  more  terrible,  shall  it  make  the  man. 
more  base?  Do  ye  despair?  So  be  it!  Despair  in  the  val- 
iant ought  to  have  an  irresistible  force.  Despair  has  made 
cowards  brave:  shall  it  sink  the  brave  to  cowards?  Let  us 
arouse  the  people;  hitherto  we  have  depended  too  much  upon 
the  nobles.  Let  us  collect  our  whole  force,  and  march  upon 
this  new  city  while  the  soldiers  of  Spain  are  employed  in  their 


LEILA.  ^  151 

new  profession  of  architects  and  builders.  Hear  me,  0  God 
and  prophet  of  the  Moslem!  hear  one  who  never  was  for- 
sworn !  If,  Moors  of  Granada,  ye  adopt  my  counsel,  I  cannot 
promise  you  victory,  but  I  promise  you  never  to  live  without 
it;  I  promise  you  at  least  your  independence,  — for  the  dead 
know  no  chains  !  If  we  cannot  live,  let  us  so  die  that  we  may 
leave  to  remotest  ages  a  glory  that  shall  be  more  durable  than 
kingdoms.  King  of  Granada,  this  is  the  counsel  of  Muza  Ben 
Abil  Gazan." 

The  prince  ceased;  but  he,  whose  faintest  word  had  once 
breathed  fire  into  the  dullest,  had  now  poured  out  his  spirit 
upon  frigid  and  lifeless  matter.  No  man  answered,  no  man 
moved. 

Boabdil  alone,  clinging  to  the  shadow  of  hope,  turned  at 
last  towards  the  audience. 

"Warriors  and  sages !"  he  said,  "as  Muza's  counsel  is  your 
king's  desire,  say  but  the  word,  and  ere  the  hour-glass  shed 
its  last  sand,  the  blast  of  our  trumpet  shall  be  ringing  through 
the  Vivarrambla." 

"0  king,  fight  not  against  the  will  of  fate;  God  is  great!" 
replied  the  chief  of  the  alfaquis. 

"Alas!"  said  Abdelmelic,  "if  the  voice  of  Muza  and  your 
own  fall  thus  coldly  upon  us,  how  can  ye  stir  the  breadless 
and  heartless  multitude?" 

"Is  such  your  general  thought  and  your  general  will?" 
said  Boabdil. 

A  universal  murmur  answered,  "  Yes  ! " 

"Go,  then,  Abdelmelic,"  resumed  the  ill-starred  king,  "go 
with  yon  Spaniards  to  the  Christian  camp,  and  bring  us  back 
the  best  terms  you  can  obtain.  The  crown  has  passed  from 
the  head  of  El  Zogoybi ;  Fate  sets  her  seal  upon  my  brow. 
Unfortunate  was  the  commencement  of  my  reign,  —  unfortu- 
nate its  end.     Break  up  the  divan." 

The  words  of  Boabdil  moved  and  penetrated  an  audience 
never  till  then  so  alive  to  his  gentle  qualities,  his  learned 
wisdom,  and  his  natural  valour.  Many  flung  themselves  at 
his  feet,  with  tears  and  sighs,  and  the  crowd  gathered  round 
to  touch  the  hem  of  his  robe. 


152  LEILA. 

Muza  gazed  at  tliem  in  deep  disdain,  with  folded  arms  and 
heaving  breast. 

"Women,  not  men,"  he  exclaimed,  "ye  weep  as  if  ye  had 
not  blood  still  left  to  shed !  Ye  are  reconciled  to  the  loss  of 
liberty,  because  ye  are  told  ye  shall  lose  nothing  else.  Fools 
and  dupes !  I  see,  from  the  spot  where  my  spirit  stands  above 
you,  the  dark  and  dismal  future  to  which  ye  are  crawling  on 
your  knees,  —  bondage  and  rapine ;  the  violence  of  lawless 
lust;  the  persecution  of  hostile  faith;  your  gold  wrung  from 
you  by  torture;  your  national  name  rooted  from  the  soil. 
Bear  this,  and  remember  me !  Farewell,  Boabdil !  you  I  pity 
not;  for  your  gardens  have  yet  a  poison,  and  your  armories  a 
sword.  Farewell,  nobles  and  santons  of  Granada !  I  quit  my 
country  while  it  is  yet  free." 

Scarcely  had  he  ceased,  ere  he  had  disappeared  from  the 
hall.     It  was  as  the  parting  genius  of  Granada ! 


CHAPTER  lY. 

THE   ADVENTURE    OF   THE   SOLITARY   HORSEMAN". 

It  was  a  burning  and  sultry  noon  when,  through  a  small 
valley  skirted  by  rugged  and  precipitous  hills,  at  the  distance 
of  several  leagues  from  Granada,  a  horseman,  in  complete 
armour,  wound  his  solitary  way.  His  mail  was  black  and 
unadorned,  on  his  vizor  waved  no  plume ;  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  carriage  and  mien,  and  the  singular  beauty  of  his 
coal-black  steed,  which  appeared  to  indicate  a  higher  rank 
than  the  absence  of  page  and  squire,  and  the  plainness  of  his 
accoutrements,  would  have  denoted  to  a  careless  eye.  He 
rode  very  slowly ;  and  his  steed,  with  the  license  of  a  spoiled 
favourite,  often  halted  lazily  in  his  sultry  path  as  a  tuft  of 
herbage  or  the  bough  of  some  overhanging  tree  offered  its 
temptation.  At  length,  as  he  thus  paused,  a  noise  was  heard 
in  a  copse  that  clothed  the  descent  of  a  steep  mountain,  and 


LEILA.  153 

the  horse  started  suddenly  back,  forcing  the  traveller  from 
his  revery.  He  looked  mechanically  upward,  and  beheld  the 
figure  of  a  man  bounding  through  the  trees  with  rapid  and 
irregular  steps.  It  was  a  form  that  suited  well  the  silence 
and  solitude  of  the  spot,  and  might  have  passed  for  one  of 
those  stern  recluses  —  half  hermit,  half  soldier  —  who  in  the 
earlier  Crusades  fixed  their  wild  homes  amidst  the  sands  and 
caves  of  Palestine.  The  stranger  supported  his  steps  by  a 
long  staff.  His  hair  and  beard  hung  long  and  matted  over  his 
broad  shoulders.  A  rusted  mail,  once  splendid  with  ara- 
besque enrichments,  protected  his  breast ;  but  the  loose  gown 
—  a  sort  of  tartan  which  descended  below  the  cuirass  —  was 
rent  and  tattered,  and  his  feet  were  bare ;  in  his  girdle  was  a 
short  curved  cimeter,  a  knife  or  dagger,  and  a  parchment  roll 
clasped  and  bound  with  iron. 

As  the  horseman  gazed  at  this  abrupt  intruder  on  the 
solitude,  his  frame  quivered  with  emotion;  and  raising  him- 
self to  his  full  height,  he  called  aloud,  "  Fiend  or  santon,  — 
whatsoever  thou  art,  —  what  seekest  thou  in  these  lonely 
places  far  from  the  king  thy  counsels  deluded,  and  the  city 
betrayed  by  thy  false  prophecies  and  unhallowed  charms?" 

"Ha!"  cried  Almamen,  for  it  was  indeed  the  Israelite,  "by 
thy  black  charger  and  the  tone  of  thy  haughty  voice  I  know 
the  hero  of  Granada.  Rather,  Muza  Ben  Abil  Gazan,  why 
art  thou  absent  from  the  last  hold  of  the  Moorish  empire?" 

"  Dost  thou  pretend  to  read  the  future,  and  art  thou  blind 
to  the  present?  Granada  has  capitulated  to  the  Spaniard. 
Alone  I  have  left  a  land  of  slaves,  and  shall  seek,  in  our 
ancestral  Africa,  some  spot  where  the  footstep  of  the  misbe- 
liever hath  not  trodden." 

"The  fate  of  one  bigotry  is,  then,  sealed,"  said  Almamen, 
gloomily;  "but  that  which  succeeds  it  is  yet  more  dark." 

"Dog!"  cried  Muza,  couching  his  lance;  "what  art  thou 
that  thus  blasphemest?  " 

"A  Jew,"  replied  Almamen,  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  and 
drawing  his  cimeter,  —  "a  despised  and  despising  Jew !  Ask 
you  more?  I  am  the  son  of  a  race  of  kings.  I  was  the  worst 
enemy  of  the  Moors  till  I  found  the  Nazarene  more  hateful 


154  LEILA. 

than  the  Moslem ;  and  then  even  Muza  himself  was  not  their 
more  renowned  champion.  Come  on,  if  thou  wilt,  man  to 
man;  I  defy  thee!" 

"No,  no,"  muttered  Muza,  sinking  his  lance;  "thy  mail  is 
rusted  with  the  blood  of  the  Spaniard,  and  this  arm  cannot 
smite  the  slayer  of  the  Christian.     Part  we  in  peace." 

"  Hold,  prince ! "  said  Almamen,  in  an  altered  voice ;  "  is 
thy  country  the  sole  thing  dear  to  thee?  Has  the  smile  of 
woman  never  stolen  beneath  thine  armour?  Has  thy  heart 
never  beat  for  softer  meetings  than  the  encounter  of  a  foe?" 

"Am  I  human,  and  a  Moor?"  returned  Muza.  "For  once 
you  divine  aright;  and  could  thy  spells  bestow  on  these  eyes 
but  one  more  sight  of  the  last  treasure  left  to  me  on  earth,  I 
should  be  as  credulous  of  thy  sorcery  as  Boabdil." 

"Thou  lovest  her  still,  then,  this  Leila?" 

"  Dark  necromancer,  hast  thou  read  my  secret,  and  knowest 
thou  the  name  of  my  beloved  one?  Ah!  let  me  believe  thee 
indeed  wise,  and  reveal  to  me  the  spot  of  earth  which  holds 
the  delight  of  my  soul!  Yes,"  continued  the  Moor,  with 
increased  emotion,  and  throwing  up  his  vizor,  as  if  for  air, 
—  "yes;  Allah  forgive  me  !  but  when  all  was  lost  at  Granada, 
I  had  still  one  consolation  in  leaving  my  fated  birthplace,  — I 
had  license  to  search  for  Leila;  I  had  the  hope  to  secure  to 
my  wanderings  in  distant  lands  one  to  whose  glance  the  eyes 
of  the  hour  is  would  be  dim.  But  I  waste  words.  Tell  me 
where  is  Leila,  and  conduct  me  to  her  feet." 

"Moslem,  I  will  lead  thee  to  her,"  answered  Almamen, 
gazing  on  the  prince  with  an  expression  of  strange  and  fearful 
exultation  in  his  dark  eyes,  — "I  will  lead  thee  to  her;  follow 
me.  It  is  only  yesternight  that  I  learned  the  walls  that  con- 
fined her;  and  from  that  hour  to  this  have  I  journeyed  over 
mountain  and  desert,  without  rest  or  food." 

"Yet  what  is  she  to  thee?"  asked  Muza,  suspiciously. 

"Thou  shalt  learn  full  soon.     Let  us  on." 

So  saying,  Almamen  sprang  forward  with  a  vigour  which 
the  excitement  of  his  mind  supplied  to  the  exhaustion  of  his 
body.  Muza  wonderingly  pushed  on  his  charger,  and  endeav- 
oured to  draw  his  mysterious  guide  into  conversation;  but 


LEILA.  155 

Almamen  scarcely  heeded  him.  And  when  he  broke  from 
his  gloomy  silence,  it  was  but  in  incoherent  and  brief  excla- 
mations, often  in  a  tongue  foreign  to  the  ear  of  his  companion. 
The  hardy  Moor,  though  steeled  against  the  superstitions  of 
his  race,  less  by  the  philosophy  of  the  learned  than  the  con- 
tempt of  the  brave,  felt  an  awe  gather  over  him  as  he  glanced, 
from  the  giant  rocks  and  lonely  valleys,  to  the  unearthly 
aspect  and  glittering  eyes  of  the  reputed  sorcerer ;  and  more 
than  once  he  muttered  such  verses  of  the  Koran  as  were 
esteemed  by  his  countrymen  the  counterspell  to  the  machina- 
tions of  the  evil  genii. 

It  might  be  an  hour  that  they  had  thus  journeyed  together, 
when  Almamen  paused  abruptly.  "I  am  wearied,"  said  he, 
faintly;  "and  though  time  presses,  I  fear  that  my  strength 
will  fail  me." 

"Mount,  then,  behind  me,"  returned  the  Moor,  after  some 
natural  hesitation.  "Jew  though  thou  art,  I  will  brave  the 
contamination  for  the  sake  of  Leila." 

"Moor,"  cried  the  Hebrew,  fiercely,  "the  contamination 
would  be  mine.  Things  of  yesterday,  as  thy  Prophet  and 
thy  creed  are,  thou  canst  not  sound  the  unfathomable  loath- 
ing which  each  heart,  faithful  to  the  Ancient  of  Days,  feels 
for  such  as  thou  and  thine." 

"]N"ow,  by  the  Kaaba,"  said  Muza,  and  his  brow  became 
dark,  "another  such  word,  and  the  hoofs  of  my  steed  shall 
trample  the  breath  of  blasphemy  from  thy  body  ! " 

"I  would  defy  thee  to  the  death,"  answered  Almamen, 
disdainfully;  "but  I  reserve  the  bravest  of  the  Moors  to 
witness  a  deed  worthy  of  the  descendant  of  Jephtha.  But 
hist!     I  hear  hoofs." 

Muza  listened,  and  his  sharp  ear  caught  a  distinct  ring 
upon  the  hard  and  rocky  soil.  He  turned  round,  and  saw 
Almamen  gliding  away  through  the  thick  underwood,  until 
the  branches  concealed  his  form.  Presently  a  curve  in  the 
path  brought  in  view  a  Spanish  cavalier  mounted  on  an  Anda- 
lusian  jennet.  The  horseman  was  gayly  singing  one  of  the 
popular  ballads  of  the  time;  and  as  it  related  to  the  feats  of 
the  Spaniards  against  the  Moors,  Muza's  haughty  blood  was 


156  LEILA. 

already  stirred,  and  his  mustaclie  quivered  on  his  lip.  "I 
will  change  the  air,"  muttered  the  Moslem,  graspiag  his  lance, 
when,  as  the  thought  crossed  him,  he  beheld  the  Spaniard 
suddenly  reel  in  his  saddle  and  fall  prostrate  on  the  ground. 
In  the  same  instant  Almamen  had  darted  from  his  hiding- 
place,  seized  the  steed  of  the  cavalier,  mounted,  and  ere  Muza 
recovered  from  his  surprise,  was  by  the  side  of  the  Moor. 

"By  what  harm,"  said  Muza,  curbing  his  barb,  "didst  thou 
fell  the  Spaniard?    Seemingly  without  a  blow." 

"As  David  felled  Goliath, — by  the  pebble  and  the  sling," 
answered  Almamen,  carelessly.  "Now,  then,  spur  forward, 
if  thou  art  eager  to  see  thy  Leila." 

The  horsemen  dashed  over  the  body  of  the  stunned  and 
insensible  Spaniard.  Tree  and  mountain  glided  by;  gradu- 
ally the  valley  vanished,  and  a  thick  forest  loomed  upon  their 
path.  Still  they  made  on,  though  the  interlaced  boughs  and 
the  raggedness  of  the  footing  somewhat  obstructed  their  way; 
until,  as  the  sun  began  slowly  to  decline,  they  entered  a 
broad  and  circular  space  round  which  trees  of  the  eldest 
growth  spread  their  motionless  and  shadowy  boughs.  In  the 
midmost  sward  was  a  rude  and  antique  stone,  resembling  the 
altar  of  some  barbarous  and  departed  creed.  Here  Almamen 
abruptly  halted,  and  muttered  inaudibly  to  himself. 

"What  moves  thee,  dark  stranger?"  said  the  Moor;  "and 
why  dost  thou  mutter  and  gaze  on  space?" 

Almamen  answered  not,  but  dismounted,  hung  his  bridle  to 
a  branch  of  a  scathed  and  riven  elm,  and  advanced  alone  into 
the  middle  of  the  space.  "  Dread  and  prophetic  power  that 
art  within  me!"  said  the  Hebrew,  aloud,  "this,  then,  is  the 
spot  that,  by  dream  and  vision,  thou  hast  foretold  me  wherein 
to  consummate  and  record  the  vow  that  shall  sever  from  the 
spirit  the  last  weakness  of  the  flesh.  Night  after  night  hast 
thou  brought  before  mine  eyes,  in  darkness  and  in  slumber, 
the  solemn  solitude  that  I  now  survey.  Be  it  so;  I  am 
prepared ! " 

Thus  speaking,  he  retired  for  a  few  moments  into  the  wood, 
collected  in  his  arms  the  dry  leaves  and  withered  branches 
which  cumbered  the  desolate  clay,  and  placed  the  fuel  upon 


LEILA.  157 

the  altar.  Then,  turning  to  the  east,  and  raising  his  hands 
on  high,  he  exclaimed,  "  Lo !  upon  this  altar,  once  worshipped, 
perchance,  by  the  heathen  savage,  the  last  bold  spirit  of  thy 
fallen  and  scattered  race  dedicates,  0  Ineffable  One !  that 
precious  offering  Thou  didst  demand  from  a  sire  of  old. 
Accept  the  sacrifice  ! " 

As  the  Hebrew  ended  his  adjuration  he  drew  a  phial  from 
his  bosom  and  sprinkled  a  few  drops  upon  the  arid  fuel.  A 
pale  blue  flame  suddenly  leaped  up;  and  as  it  lighted  the 
haggard  but  earnest  countenance  of  the  Israelite,  Muza  felt 
his  Moorish  blood  congeal  in  his  veins,  and  shuddered,  though 
he  scarce  knew  why.  Almamen  with  his  dagger  severed  from 
his  head  one  of  his  long  locks,  and  cast  it  upon  the  flame.  He 
watched  it  until  it  was  consumed ;  and  then,  with  a  stifled  cry, 
fell  upon  the  earth  in  a  dead  swoon.  The  Moor  hastened  to 
raise  him;  he  chafed  his  hands  and  temples;  he  unbuckled 
the  vest  upon  his  bosom;  he  forgot  that  his  comrade  was  a 
sorcerer  and  a  Jew,  so  much  had  the  agony  of  that  excitement 
moved  his  sympathy. 

It  was  not  till  several  minutes  had  elapsed  that  Almamen, 
with  a  deep-drawn  sigh,  recovered  from  his  swoon.  "Ah, 
beloved  one,  bride  of  my  heart ! "  he  murmured,  "  was  it  for 
this  that  thou  didst  commend  to  me  the  only  pledge  of  our 
youthful  love?  Forgive  me!  I  restore  her  to  the  earth 
untainted  by  the  Gentile."  He  closed  his  eyes  again,  and 
a  strong  convulsion  shook  his  frame.  It  passed;  and  he  rose 
as  a  man  from  a  fearful  dream,  composed,  and  almost  as  it 
were  refreshed,  by  the  terrors  he  had  undergone.  The  last 
glimmer  of  the  ghastly  light  was  dying  away  upon  that 
ancient  altar,  and  a  low  wind  crept  sighing  through  the 
trees. 

"Mount,  prince,"  said  Almamen,  calmly,  but  averting  his 
eyes  from  the  altar;  "we  shall  have  no  more  delays." 

"Wilt  thou  not  explain  thy  incantation?"  asked  Muza;  "or 
is  it,  as  my  reason  tells  me,  but  the  mummery  of  a  juggler?  " 

"  Alas,  alas ! "  answered  Almamen,  in  a  sad  and  altered 
tone,  "thou  wilt  soon  know  all." 


158  LEILA. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   SACKIFICE, 

The  sun  was  now  sinking  slowly  througli  those  masses  of 
purple  cloud  which,  belong  to  Iberian  skies,  when,  emerging 
from  the  forest,  the  travellers  saw  before  them  a  small  and 
lovely  plain,  cultivated  like  a  garden.  Eows  of  orange  and 
citron  trees  were  backed  by  the  dark-green  foliage  of  vines, 
and  these  again  found  a  barrier  in  girdling  copses  of  chestnut, 
oak,  and  the  deeper  verdure  of  pines  j  while,  far  to  the  hori- 
zon, rose  the  distant  and  dim  outline  of  the  mountain  range, 
scarcely  distinguishable  from  the  mellow  colourings  of  the 
heaven.  Through  this  charming  spot  went  a  slender  and 
sparkling  torrent  that  collected  its  waters  in  a  circular  basin, 
over  which  the  rose  and  orange  hung  their  contrasted  blos- 
soms. On  a  gentle  eminence  above  this  plain,  or  garden, 
rose  the  spires  of  a  convent;  and  though  it  was  still  clear 
daylight,  the  long  and  pointed  lattices  were  illumined  within, 
and  as  the  horsemen  cast  their  eyes  upon  the  pile,  the  sound 
of  the  holy  chorus  —  made  more  sweet  and  solemn  from  its 
own  indistinctness,  from  the  quiet  of  the  hour,  from  the  sud- 
den and  sequestered  loveliness  of  that  spot,  suiting  so  well 
the  ideal  calm  of  the  conventual  life  —  rolled  its  music 
through  the  odorous  and  lucent  air. 

But  that  scene  and  that  sound,  so  calculated  to  soothe  and 
harmonize  the  thought,  seemed  to  arouse  Almamen  into  agony 
and  passion.  He  smote  his  breast  with  his  clenched  hand, 
and  shrieking,  rather  than  exclaiming,  "  God  of  my  fathers ! 
have  I  come  too  late?"  buried  his  spurs  to  the  rowels  in  the 
sides  of  his  panting  steed.  Along  the  sward,  through  the  fra- 
grant shrubs,  athwart  the  pebbly  and  shallow  torrent,  up  the 
ascent  to  the  convent,  sped  the  Israelite.  Muza,  wondering 
and  half  reluctant,  followed  at  a  little  distance.     Clearer  and 


LEILA.  159 

nearer  came  the  voices  of  the  choir ;  broader  and  redder  glowed 
the  tapers  from  the  Gothic  casements.  The  porch  of  the  con- 
vent chapel  was  reached;  the  Hebrew  sprang  from  his  horse. 
A  small  group  of  the  peasants  dependent  on  the  convent  loitered 
reverently  round  the  threshold ;  pushing  through  them,  as  one 
frantic,  Almamen  entered  the  chapel  and  disappeared. 

A  minute  elapsed.  Muza  was  at  the  door,  but  the  Moor 
paused  irresolutely  ere  he  dismounted.  "  What  is  the  cere- 
mony?" he  asked  of  the  peasants. 

"A  nun  is  about  to  take  the  vows,"  answered  one  of  them. 

A  cry  of  alarm,  of  indignation,  of  terror,  was  heard  within. 
Muza  no  longer  delayed;  he  gave  his  steed  to  the  bystander, 
pushed  aside  the  heavy  curtain  that  screened  the  threshold, 
and  was  within  the  chapel. 

By  the  altar  gathered  a  confused  and  disordered  group,  — 
the  sisterhood,  with  their  abbess.  Kound  the  consecrated  rail 
flocked  the  spectators,  breathless  and  amazed.  Conspicuous 
above  the  rest,  on  the  elevation  of  the  holy  place,  stood  Alma- 
men with  his  drawn  dagger  in  his  right  hand,  his  left  arm 
clasped  around  the  form  of  a  novice,  whose  dress,  not  yet 
replaced  by  the  serge,  bespoke  her  the  sister  fated  to  the  veil ; 
and  on  the  opposite  side  of  that  sister,  one  hand  on  her  shoul- 
der, the  other  rearing  on  high  the  sacred  crucifix,  stood  a 
stern,  commanding  form,  in  the  white  robes  of  the  Dominican 
order :  it  was  Tomas  de  Torquemada. 

"Avaunt,  Abaddon!"  were  the  first  words  which  reached 
Muza's  ear  as  he  stood,  unnoticed,  in  the  middle  of  the  aisle; 
"  here  thy  sorcery  and  thine  arts  cannot  avail  thee.  Eelease 
the  devoted  one  of  God ! " 

"  She  is  mine !  she  is  my  daughter !  I  claim  her  from  thee 
as  a  father,  in  the  name  of  the  great  Sire  of  Man !  " 

"  Seize  the  sorcerer,  seize  him ! "  exclaimed  the  Inquisitor, 
as,  with  a  sudden  movement,  Almamen  cleared  his  way  through 
the  scattered  and  dismayed  group,  and  stood  with  his  daughter 
in  his  arms  on  the  first  step  of  the  consecrated  platform. 

But  not  a  foot  stirred,  not  a  hand  was  raised.  The  epithet 
bestowed  on  the  intruder  had  only  breathed  a  supernatural 
terror  into  the  audience ;  and  they  would  have  sooner  rushed 


160  LEILA. 

upon  a  tiger  in  his  lair  than  on  the  lifted  dagger  and  savage 
aspect  of  that  grim  stranger. 

"Oh,  my  father,"  then  said  a  low  and  faltering  voice,  that 
startled  Muza  as  a  voice  from  the  grave,  "  wrestle  not  against 
the  decrees  of  Heaven.  Thy  daughter  is  not  compelled  to  her 
solemn  choice.  Humbly,  but  devotedly,  a  convert  to  the 
Christian  creed,  her  only  wish  on  earth  is  to  take  the  conse- 
crated and  eternal  vow." 

"  Ha ! "  groaned  the  Hebrew,  suddenly  relaxing  his  hold,  as 
his  daughter  fell  on  her  knees  before  him,  "  then  have  I  indeed 
been  told,  as  I  have  foreseen,  the  worst.  The  veil  is  rent, 
the  spirit  hath  left  the  temple.  Thy  beauty  is  desecrated; 
thy  form  is  but  unhallowed  clay.  Dog!"  he  cried  more 
fiercely,  glaring  round  upon  the  unmoved  face  of  the  Inquisi- 
tor, "  this  is  thy  work.  But  thou  shalt  not  triumph.  Here, 
by  thine  own  shrine,  I  spit  at  and  defy  thee,  as  once  before 
amidst  the  tortures  of  thy  inhuman  court.  Thus  —  thus  — 
thus  —  Almamen  the  Jew  delivers  the  last  of  his  house  from 
the  curse  of  Galilee ! " 

"Hold,  murderer! "  cried  a  voice  of  thunder;  and  an  armed 
man  burst  through  the  crowd  and  stood  upon  the  platform. 

It  was  too  late :  thrice  the  blade  of  the  Hebrew  had  passed 
through  that  innocent  breast;  thrice  was  it  reddened  with  that 
virgin  blood.  Leila  fell  in  the  arms  of  her  lover;  her  dim 
eyes  rested  upon  his  countenance  as  it  shone  upon  her,  be- 
neath his  lifted  vizor;  a  faint  and  tender  smile  played  upon 
her  lips,  —  Leila  was  no  more. 

One  hasty  glance  Almamen  cast  upon  his  victim,  and  then, 
with  a  wild  laugh  that  woke  every  echo  in  the  dreary  aisles, 
he  leaped  from  the  place.  Brandishing  his  bloody  weapon 
above  his  head,  he  dashed  through  the  coward  crowd  and  ere 
even  the  startled  Dominican  had  found  a  voice,  the  tramp  of 
his  headlong  steed  rang  upon  the  air;  an  instant,  and  all  was 
silent. 

But  over  the  murdered  girl  leaned  the  Moor,  as  yet  in- 
credulous of  her  death,  her  head,  still  unshorn  of  its  purple 
tresses,  pillowed  on  his  lap,  her  icy  hand  clasped  in  his,  and 
her  blood  weltering  fast  over  his  armour.     None  disturbed 


LEILA.  161 

him;  for,  habited  as  the  knights  of  Christendom,  none  siis- 
pected  his  faith,  and  all,  even  the  Dominican,  felt  a  thrill  of 
sympathy  at  his  distress.  How  he  came  hither,  with  what 
object,  what  hope,  their  thoughts  were  too  much  locked  in 
pity  to  conjecture.  There,  voiceless  and  motionless,  bent 
the  Moor,  until  one  of  the  monks  approached  and  felt  the 
pulse,  to  ascertain  if  life  was,  indeed,  utterly  gone. 

The  Moor  at  first  waved  him  haughtily  away;  but  when  he 
divined  the  monk's  purpose,  suffered  him  in  silence  to  take 
the  beloved  hand.  He  fixed  on  him  his  dark  and  imploring 
eyes;  and  when  the  father  dropped  the  hand,  and,  gently 
shaking  his  head,  turned  away,  a  deep  and  agonizing  groan 
was  all  that  the  audience  heard  from  that  heart  in  which  the 
last  iron  of  fate  had  entered.  Passionately  he  kissed  the 
brow,  the  cheeks,  the  lips  of  the  hushed  and  angel  face,  and 
rose  from  the  spot. 

"What  dost  thou  here,  and  what  knowest  thou  of  yon 
murderous  enemy  of  God  and  man?"  asked  the  Dominican, 
approaching. 

Muza  made  no  reply,  as  he  stalked  slowly  through  the 
chapel.  The  audience  was  touched  to  sudden  tears.  "For- 
bear!" said  they,  almost  with  one  accord,  to  the  harsh 
Inquisitor;    "he  hath  no  voice  to  answer  thee." 

And  thus,  amidst  the  oppressive  grief  and  sympathy  of  the 
Christian  throng,  the  unknown  Paynim  reached  the  door, 
mounted  his  steed,  and  as  he  turned  once  more  and  cast  a 
hurried  glance  upon  the  fatal  pile,  the  bystanders  saw  the 
large  tears  rolling  down  his  swarthy  cheeks. 

Slowly  that  coal-black  charger  wound  down  the  hillock, 
crossed  the  quiet  and  lovely  garden,  and  vanished  amidst  the 
forest.  And  never  was  known,  to  Moor  or  Christian,  the 
future  fate  of  the  hero  of  Granada.  Whether  he  reached  in 
safety  the  shores  of  his  ancestral  Africa  and  carved  out  new 
fortunes  and  a  new  name,  or  whether  death,  by  disease  or 
strife,  terminated  obscurely  his  glorious  and  brief  career, 
mystery  —  deep  and  unpenetrated  even  by  the  fancies  of  the 
thousand  bards  who  have  consecrated  his  deeds  —  wraps  in 
everlasting  shadow  the  destinies  of  Muza  Ben  Abil  Gazan 

11 


162  LEILA. 

from  that  hour  when  the  setting  sun  threw  its  parting  ray 
over  his  stately  form  and  his  ebon  barb,  disappearing  amidst 
the  breathless  shadows  of  the  forest. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

THE  RETURN,  —  THE  RIOT,  —  THE  TREACHERY,  —  AND  THE 

DEATH. 

It  was  the  eve  of  the  fatal  day  on  which  Granada  was  to 
be  delivered  to  the  Spaniards,  and  in  that  subterranean  vault 
beneath  the  house  of  Almamen,  before  described,  three  elders 
of  the  Jewish  persuasion  were  met. 

"Trusty  and  well-beloved  Ximen,"  cried  one,  a  wealthy 
and  usurious  merchant,  with  a  twinkling  and  humid  eye,  and 
a  sleek  and  unctuous  aspect,  which  did  not,  however,  suffice 
to  disguise  something  fierce  and  crafty  in  his  low  brow  and 
pinched  lips, — "trusty  and  well-beloved  Ximen,"  said  this 
Jew,  "  truly  thou  hast  served  us  well,  in  yielding  to  thy  per- 
secuted brethren  this  secret  shelter.  Here,  indeed,  may  the 
heathen  search  for  us  in  vain !  Verily,  my  veins  grow  warm 
again,  and  thy  servant  hungereth  and  hath  thirst." 

"  Eat,  Isaac,  eat,  —  yonder  are  viands  prepared  for  thee ; 
eat,  and  spare  not.  And  thou,  Elias,  wilt  thou  not  draw  near 
the  board?  The  wine  is  old  and  precious,  and  will  revive 
thee." 

"  Ashes  and  hyssop,  hyssop  and  ashes,  are  food  and  drink 
for  me,"  answered  Elias,  with  passionate  bitterness;  "they 
have  razed  my  house,  they  have  burned  my  granaries,  they 
have  molten  down  my  gold.     I  am  a  ruined  man ! " 

"Nay,"  said  Ximen,  who  gazed  at  him  with  a  malevolent 
eye;  for  so  utterly  had  years  and  sorrows  mixed  with  gall 
even  the  one  kindlier  sympathy  he  possessed  that  he  could 
not  resist  an  inward  chuckle  over  the  very  afflictions  he 
relieved,  and  the  very  impotence  he  protected,  —  "nay,  Elias, 


LEILA.  163 

thou  hast  wealth  yet  left  in  the  seaport  towns  sufficient  to 
buy  up  half  Granada." 

"The  Nazarene  will  seize  it  all,"  cried  Elias;  "I  see  it 
already  in  his  grasp." 

"Nay,  thinkest  thou  so?  And  wherefore?"  asked  Ximen, 
startled  into  sincere,  because  selfish,  anxiety. 

"Mark  me.  Under  license  of  the  truce,  I  went,  last  night, 
to  the  Christian  camp;  I  had  an  interview  with  the  Christian 
king;  and  when  he  heard  my  name  and  faith,  his  very  beard 
curled  with  ire.  *  Hound  of  Belial ! '  he  roared  forth,  *  has 
not  thy  comrade  carrion,  the  sorcerer  Almamen,  sufficiently 
deceived  and  insulted  the  majesty  of  Spain?  For  his  sake  ye 
shall  have  no  quarter.  Tarry  here  another  instant,  and  thy 
corpse  shall  be  swinging  to  the  winds !  Go,  and  count  over 
thy  misgotten  wealth:  just  census  shall  be  taken  of  it;  and  if 
thou  defraudest  our  holy  impost  by  one  piece  of  copper,  thou 
shalt  sup  with  Dives ! '  Such  was  my  mission  and  mine 
answer.  I  return  home  to  see  the  ashes  of  mine  house.  Woe 
is  me ! " 

"  And  this  we  owe  to  Almamen,  the  pretended  Jew ! "  cried 
Isaac  from  his  solitary,  but  not  idle,  place  at  the  board. 

"I  would  this  knife  were  at  his  false  throat!"  growled 
Elias,  clutching  his  poniard  with  his  long,  bony  fingers. 

"No  chance  of  that,"  muttered  Ximen;  "he  will  return  no 
more  to  Granada.  The  vulture  and  the  worm  have  divided 
his  carcass  between  them  ere  this;  and,"  he  added,  inly  with 
a  hideous  smile,  "  his  house  and  his  gold  have  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  old,  childless  Ximen ! " 

"This  is  a  strange  and  fearful  vault,"  said  Isaac,  quaffing  a 
large  goblet  of  the  hot  wine  of  the  Vega;  "here  might  the 
Witch  of  Endor  have  raised  the  dead.  Yon  door,  —  whither 
doth  it  lead?" 

"  Through  passages  none  that  I  know  of,  save  my  master, 
hath  trodden,"  answered  Ximen.  "I  have  heard  that  they 
reach  even  to  the  Alhambra.  Come,  worthy  Elias,  thy  form 
trembles  with  the  cold;  take  this  wine." 

"Hist!"  said  Elias,  shaking  from  limb  to  limb ;  "our  pur- 
suers are  upon  us,  —  I  hear  a  step ! " 


164  LEILA. 

As  lie  spoke,  the  door  to  which  Isaac  had  pointed,  slowly 
opened,  and  Almamen  entered  the  vault. 

Had,  indeed,  a  new  Witch  of  Endor  conjured  up  the  dead, 
the  apparition  would  not  more  have  startled  and  appalled  that 
goodly  trio.  Elias,  griping  his  knife,  retreated  to  the  farth- 
est end  of  the  vault.  Isaac  dropped  the  goblet  he  was  about 
to  drain,  and  fell  upon  his  knees.  Ximen  alone,  growing,  if 
possible,  a  shade  more  ghastly,  retained  something  of  self- 
possession  as  he  muttered  to  himself :  "  He  lives,  and  his  gold 
is  not  mine !     Curse  him ! " 

Seemingly  unconscious  of  the  strange  guests  his  sanctuary 
shrouded,  Almamen  stalked  on,  like  a  man  walking  in  his 
sleep. 

Ximen  roused  himself,  softly  unbarred  the  door  which 
admitted  to  the  upper  apartments,  and  motioned  to  his 
comrades  to  avail  themselves  of  the  opening;  but  as  Isaac, 
the  first  to  accept  the  hint,  crept  across,  Almamen  fixed  upon 
him  his  terrible  eye,  and  appearing  suddenly  to  awake  to  con- 
sciousness, shouted  out,  "  Thou  miscreant,  Ximen,  whom  hast 
thou  admitted  to  the  secrets  of  thy  lord?  Close  the  door; 
these  men  must  die ! " 

"Mighty  master,"  said  Ximen,  calmly,  "is  thy  servant  to 
blame  that  he  believed  the  rumour  that  declared  thy  death? 
These  men  are  of  our  holy  faith  whom  I  have  snatched  from 
the  violence  of  the  sacrilegious  and  maddened  mob.  No  spot 
but  this  seemed  safe  from  the  popular  frenzy." 

"Are  ye  Jews?"  said  Almamen.  "Ah,  yes!  I  know  ye 
now, —  things  of  the  market-place  and  bazaar!  Oh,  ye  are 
Jews  indeed !     Go,  go !    Leave  me  ! " 

Waiting  no  further  license,  the  three  vanished;  but  ere  he 
quitted  the  vault,  Elias  turned  back  his  scowling  countenance 
on  Almamen  (who  had  sunk  again  into  an  absorbed  medita- 
tion) with  a  glance  of  vindictive  ire.     Almamen  was  alone. 

In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Ximen  returned  to  seek 
his  master,  but  the  place  was  again  deserted. 

It  was  midnight  in  the  streets  of  Granada,  —  midnight,  but 
not  repose.  The  multitude,  roused  into  one  of  their  par- 
oxysms of  wrath  and  sorrow  by  the  reflection  that  the  morrow 


LEILA.  165 

was  indeed  the  day  of  their  subjection  to  the  Christian  foe, 
poured  forth  through  the  streets  to  the  number  of  twenty 
thousand.  It  was  a  wild  and  stormy  night;  those  formidable 
gusts  of  wind,  which  sometimes  sweep  in  sudden  winter  from 
the  snows  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  howled  through  the  tossing 
groves  and  along  the  winding  streets.  But  the  tempest 
seemed  to  heighten,  as  if  by  the  sympathy  of  the  elements, 
the  popular  storm  and  whirlwind.  Brandishing  arms  and 
torches,  and  gaunt  with  hunger,  the  dark  forms  of  the  frantic 
Moors  seemed  like  ghouls  or  spectres,  rather  than  mortal  men^ 
as,  apparently  without  an  object  save  that  of  venting  their 
own  disquietude  or  exciting  the  fears  of  earth,  they  swept 
through  the  desolate  city. 

In  the  broad  space  of  the  Vivarrambla  the  crowd  halted, 
irresolute  in  all  else,  but  resolved  at  least  that  something  for 
Granada  should  yet  be  done.  They  were  for  the  most  armed 
in  their  Moorish  fashion;  but  they  were  wholly  without 
leaders,  —  not  a  noble,  a  magistrate,  an  officer,  would  have 
dreamed  of  the  hopeless  enterprise  of  violating  the  truce  with 
Ferdinand.  It  was  a  mere  popular  tumult,  —  the  madness  of 
a  mob;  but  not  the  less  formidable,  for  it  was  an  Eastern 
mob,  and  a  mob  with  sword  and  shaft,  with  buckler  and  mail, 

—  the  mob  by  which  Oriental  empires  have  been  built  and 
overthrown !  There,  in  the  splendid  space  that  had  witnessed 
the  games  and  tournaments  of  that  Arab  and  African  chivalry, 

—  there,  where  for  many  a  lustrum  kings  had  reviewed  devoted 
and  conquering  armies,  assembled  those  desperate  men,  the 
loud  winds  agitating  their  tossing  torches  that  struggled 
against  the  moonless  night. 

"Let  us  storm  the  Alhambra!  "  cried  one  of  the  band;  "let 
us  seize  Boabdil,  and  place  him  in  the  midst  of  us ;  let  us  rush 
against  the  Christians,  buried  in  their  proud  repose  ! " 

"  Lelilies,  Lelilies !  The  Keys  and  the  Crescent ! "  shouted 
the  mob. 

The  shout  died,  and  at  the  verge  of  the  space  was  suddenly 
heard  a  once  familiar  and  ever-thrilling  voice. 

The  Moors  who  heard  it  turned  round  in  amaze  and  awe, 
and  beheld,  raised  upon  the  stone  upon  which  the  criers  or 


166  LEILA. 

heralds  had  been  wont  to  utter  the  royal  proclamations,  the 
form  of  Almamen  the  santon,  whom  they  had  deemed  already 
with  the  dead. 

"  Moors  and  people  of  Granada ! "  he  said,  in  a  solemn  but 
hollow  voice,  "  I  am  with  you  still.  Your  monarch  and  your 
heroes  have  deserted  you,  but  I  am  with  you  to  the  last !  Go 
not  to  the  Alhambra;  the  fort  is  impenetrable,  the  guard 
faithful.  Night  will  be  wasted,  and  day  bring  upon  you  the 
Christian  army.  March  to  the  gates;  pour  along  the  Vega; 
descend  at  once  upon  the  foe ! " 

He  spoke,  and  drew  forth  his  sabre,  —  it  gleamed  in  the 
torchlight;  the  Moors  bowed  their  head  in  fanatic  reverence; 
the  santon  sprang  from  the  stone,  and  passed  into  the  centre 
of  the  crowd. 

Then  once  more  arose  joyful  shouts.  The  multitude  had 
found  a  leader  worthy  of  their  enthusiasm,  and  in  regular 
order  they  formed  themselves  rapidly,  and  swept  down  the 
narrow  streets. 

Swelled  by  several  scattered  groups  of  desultory  marauders 
(the  ruffians  and  refuse  of  the  city),  the  infidel  numbers  were 
now  but  a  few  furlongs  from  the  great  gate  whence  they  had 
been  wont  to  issue  on  the  foe.  And  then,  perhaps,  had  the 
Moors  passed  these  gates  and  reached  the  Christian  encamp- 
ment, lulled,  as  it  was,  in  security  and  sleep,  that  wild  army 
of  twenty  thousand  desperate  men  might  have  saved  Granada, 
and  Spain  might  at  this  day  possess  the  only  civilized  empire 
which  the  faith  of  Mohammed  ever  founded. 

But  the  evil  star  of  Boabdil  prevailed.  The  news  of  the 
insurrection  in  the  city  reached  him.  Two  aged  men  from 
the  lower  city  arrived  at  the  Alhambra,  demanded  and  ob- 
tained an  audience;  and  the  effect  of  that  interview  was 
instantaneous  upon  Boabdil.  In  the  popular  frenzy  he  saw 
only  a  justifiable  excuse  for  the  Christian  king  to  break  the 
conditions  of  the  treaty,  raze  the  city,  and  exterminate  the 
inhabitants.  Touched  by  a  generous  compassion  for  his  sub- 
jects, and  actuated  no  less  by  a  high  sense  of  kingly  honour, 
which  led  him  to  preserve  a  truce  solemnly  sworn  to,  he  once 
more  mounted  his  cream-coloured  charger,  with  the  two  elders 


LEILA.  167 

who  had  sought  him  by  his  side,  and  at  the  head  of  his  guard 
rode  from  the  Alhambra.  The  sound  of  his  trumpets,  the 
tramp  of  his  steeds,  the  voice  of  his  heralds,  simultaneously 
reached  the  multitude,  and  ere  they  had  leisure  to  decide  their 
course,  the  king  was  in  the  midst  of  them. 

"What  madness  is  this,  0  my  people?"  cried  Boabdil,  spur- 
ring into  the  midst  of  the  throng, —  "whither  would  ye  go?" 

"  Against  the  Christian !  against  the  Goth ! "  shouted  a 
thousand  voices.  "Lead  us  on!  The  santon  is  risen  from 
the  dead,  and  will  ride  by  thy  right  hand !  " 

"Alas!"  resumed  the  king,  "ye  would  march  against  the 
Christian  king!  Kemember  that  our  hostages  are  in  his 
power;  remember  that  he  will  desire  no  better  excuse  to 
level  Granada  with  the  dust,  and  put  you  and  your  children 
to  the  sword.  We  have  made  such  treaty  as  never  yet  was 
made  between  foe  and  foe.  Your  lives,  laws,  wealth,  —  all 
are  saved.  Nothing  is  lost,  save  the  crown  of  Boabdil.  I 
am  the  only  sufferer.  So  be  it.  My  evil  star  brought  on  you 
these  evil  destinies ;  without  me,  you  may  revive,  and  be  once 
more  a  nation.  Yield  to  fate  to-day,  and  you  may  grasp  her 
proudest  awards  to-morrow.  To  succumb  is  not  to  be  sub- 
dued. But  go  forth  against  the  Christians,  and  if  you  win  one 
battle,  it  is  but  to  incur  a  more  terrible  war;  if  you  lose,  it 
is  not  honourable  capitulation,  but  certain  extermination,  to 
which  you  rush !  Be  persuaded,  and  listen  once  again  to  your 
king." 

The  crowd  were  moved,  were  softened,  were  half -convinced. 
They  turned,  in  silence  towards  their  santon;  and  Almamen 
did  not  shrink  from  the  appeal,  but  stood  forth,  confronting 
the  king. 

"King  of  Granada,"  he  cried  aloud,  "behold  thy  friend, 
thy  prophet !     Lo,  I  assure  you  victory !  " 

"Hold!"  interrupted  Boabdil;  "thou  hast  deceived  and 
betrayed  me  too  long.  Moors,  know  ye  this  pretended  san- 
ton? He  is  of  no  Moslem  creed.  He  is  a  hound  of  Israel 
who  would  sell  you  to  the  best  bidder.     Slay  him !  " 

"Ha!  "  cried  Almamen,  "and  who  is  my  accuser?" 

"  Thy  servant,  —  behold  him !  "    At  these  words  the  royal 


168  LEILA. 

guards  lifted  their  torclies,  and  the  glare  fell  redly  on  the 
death-like  features  of  Ximen. 

"Light  of  the  world,  there  be  other  Jews  that  know  him," 
said  the  traitor. 

"Will  ye  suffer  a  Jew  to  lead  you,  0  race  of  the  prophet?" 
cried  the  king. 

The  crowd  stood  confused  and  bewildered.  Almamen  felt 
his  hour  was  come  j  he  remained  silent,  his  arms  folded,  his 
brow  erect. 

"Be  there  any  of  the  tribes  of  Moisa  amongst  the  crowd?" 
cried  Boabdil,  pursuing  his  advantage.  "  If  so,  let  them  ap- 
proach and  testify  what  they  know."  Forth  came,  not  from 
the  crowd,  but  from  amongst  Boabdil' s  train,  a  well-known 
Israelite. 

"We  disown  this  man  of  blood  and  fraud,"  said  Elias, 
bowing  to  the  earth;  "but  he  was  of  out  creed." 

"Speak,  false  santon,  art  thou  dumb?"  cried  the  king. 

"A  curse  light  on  thee,  dull  fool!  "  cried  Almamen,  fiercely. 
"What  matters  who  the  instrument  that  would  have  restored 
to  thee  thy  throne?  Yes!  I,  who  have  ruled  thy  councils, 
who  have  led  thine  armies,  I  am  of  the  race  of  Joshua  and  of 
Samuel,  —  and  the  Lord  of  Hosts  is  the  God  of  Almamen ! " 

A  shudder  ran  through  that  mighty  multitude ;  but  the  looks, 
the  mien,  and  the  voice  of  the  man  awed  them,  and  not  a 
weapon  was  raised  against  him.  He  might,  even  then,  have 
passed  scathless  through  the  crowd;  he  might  have  borne  to 
other  climes  his  burning  passions  and  his  torturing  woes :  but 
his  care  for  life  was  past;  he  desired  but  to  curse  his  dupes, 
and  to  die.  He  paused,  looked  round,  and  burst  into  a  laugh 
of  such  bitter  and  haughty  scorn  as  the  tempted  of  earth  may 
hear  in  the  halls  below  from  the  lips  of  Eblis. 

"Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "such  I  am!  I  have  been  your  idol 
and  your  lord.  I  may  be  your  victim,  but  in  death  I  am  your 
vanquisher.  Christian  and  Moslem  alike  my  foe,  I  would 
have  trampled  upon  both.  But  the  Christian,  wiser  than  you, 
gave  me  smooth  words,  and  I  would  have  sold  you  to  his 
power;  wickeder  than  you,  he  deceived  me,  and  I  would  have 
crushed  him,  that  I  might  have  continued  to  deceive  and  rule 


LEILA.  169 

the  puppets  tliat  ye  call  your  chiefs.  But  they  for  whom  I 
toiled  and  laboured  and  sinned ;  for  whom  I  surrendered  peace 
and  ease,  yea,  and  a  daughter's  person  and  a  daughter's  blood, 
—  they  have  betrayed  me  to  your  hands,  and  the  Curse  of  Old 
rests  with  them  evermore.  Amen!  The  disguise  is  rent; 
Almamen  the  santon  is  the  son  of  Issachar  the  Jew!" 

More  might  he  have  said,  but  the  spell  was  broken.  With 
a  ferocious  yell  those  living  waves  of  the  multitude  rushed 
over  the  stern  fanatic.  Six  cimeters  passed  through  him,  and 
he  fell  not ;  at  the  seventh  he  was  a  corpse.  Trodden  in  the 
clay,  then  whirled  aloft,  limb  torn  from  limb,  —  ere  a  man 
could  have  drawn  breath  nine  times,  scarce  a  vestige  of  the 
human  form  was  left  to  the  mangled  and  bloody  clay. 

One  victim  sufficed  to  slake  the  wrath  of  the  crowd.  They 
gathered  like  wild  beasts  whose  hunger  is  appeased,  around 
their  monarch,  who  in  vain  had  endeavoured  to  stay  their 
summary  revenge,  and  who  now,  pale  and  breathless,  shrank 
from  the  passions  he  had  excited.  He  faltered  forth  a  few 
words  of  remonstrance  and  exhortation,  turned  the  head  of 
his  steed,  and  took  his  way  to  his  palace. 

The  crowd  dispersed,  but  not  yet  to  their  homes.  The 
crime  of  Almamen  worked  against  his  whole  race.  Some 
rushed  to  the  Jews'  quarter,  which  they  set  on  fire ;  others  to 
the  lonely  mansion  of  Almamen. 

Ximen  on  quitting  the  king  had  been  before  the  mob.  Not 
anticipating  such  an  effect  of  the  popular  rage,  he  had  has- 
tened to  the  house,  which  he  now  deemed  at  length  his  own. 
He  had  just  reached  the  treasury  of  his  dead  lord,  he  had  just 
feasted  his  eyes  on  the  massive  ingots  and  glittering  gems;  in 
the  lust  of  his  heart  he  had  just  cried  aloud,  "  And  these  are 
mine ! "  —  when  he  heard  the  roar  of  the  mob  below  the  wall, 
when  he  saw  the  glare  of  their  torches  against  the  casement. 
It  was  in  vain  that  he  shrieked  aloud,  "I  am  the  man  that 
exposed  the  Jew ! "  the  wild  winds  scattered  his  words  over  a 
deafened  audience.  Driven  from  his  chamber  by  the  smoke 
and  flame,  afraid  to  venture  forth  amongst  the  crowd,  the  miser 
loaded  himself  with  the  most  precious  of  the  store;  he  de- 
scended the  steps,  he  bent  his  way  to  the  secret  vault,  when 


170  LEILA. 

suddenly  the  floor,  pierced  by  the  flames,  crashed  under  him, 
and  the  fire  rushed  up  in  a  fiercer  and  more  rapid  volume  as 
the  death-shriek  broke  through  that  lurid  shroud. 

Such  were  the  principal  events  of  the  last  night  of  the 
Moorish  dynasty  in  Granada. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  END. 


Day  dawned  upon  Granada ;  the  populace  had  sought  their 
homes,  and  a  profound  quiet  wrapped  the  streets,  save  where, 
from  the  fires  committed  in  the  late  tumult,  was  yet  heard  the 
crash  of  roofs  or  the  crackle  of  the  light  and  fragrant  timber 
employed  in  those  pavilions  of  the  summer.  The  manner  in 
which  the  mansions  of  Granada  were  built,  each  separated 
from  the  other  by  extensive  gardens,  fortunately  prevented 
the  flames  from  extending.  But  the  inhabitants  cared  so 
little  for  the  hazard  that  not  a  single  guard  remained  to  watch 
the  result.  Now  and  then  some  miserable  forms  in  the  Jewish 
gown  might  be  seen  cowering  by  the  ruins  of  their  house,  like 
the  souls  that,  according  to  Plato,  watch  in  charnels  over  their 
own  mouldering  bodies.  Day  dawned,  and  the  beams  of  the 
winter  sun,  smiling  away  the  clouds  of  the  past  night,  played 
cheerily  on  the  murmuring  waves  of  the  Xenil  and  the 
Darro. 

Alone  upon  a  balcony  commanding  that  stately  landscape 
stood  the  last  of  the  Moorish  kings.  He  had  sought  to  bring 
to  his  aid  all  the  lessons  of  the  philosophy  he  had  cultivated. 

"  What  are  we,"  thought  the  musing  prince,  "that  we  should 
fill  the  world  with  ourselves,  we  kings !  Earth  resounds  with 
the  crash  of  my  falling  throne ;  on  the  ear  of  races  unborn  the 
echo  will  live  prolonged.  But  what  have  I  lost?  Nothing 
that  was  necessary  to  my  happiness,  my  repose,  —  nothing 
save  the  source  of  all  my  wretchedness,  the  Marah  of  my 


LEILA.  171 

life!  Shall  I  less  enjoy  heaven  and  earth,  or  thought  or 
action,  or  man's  more  material  luxuries  of  food  or  sleep,  — 
the  common  and  the  cheap  desires  of  all?  Arouse  thee,  then, 
O  heart  within  me !  Many  and  deep  emotions  of  sorrow  or  of 
joy  are  yet  left  to  break  the  monotony  of  existence." 

He  paused,  and  at  the  distance  his  eye  fell  upon  the  lonely 
minarets  of  the  distant  and  deserted  palace  of  Muza  Ben  Abil 
Gazan. 

"Thou  wert  right,  then,"  resumed  the  king,  — "thou  wert 
right,  brave  spirit,  not  to  pity  Boabdil.  But  not  because 
death  was  in  his  power;  man's  soul  is  greater  than  his  for- 
tunes, and  there  is  majesty  in  a  life  that  towers  above  the 
ruins  that  fall  around  its  path." 

He  turned  away,  and  his  cheek  suddenly  grew  pale,  for  he 
heard,  in  the  courts  below,  the  tread  of  hoofs,  the  bustle  of 
preparation :  it  was  the  hour  for  his  departure.  His  philoso- 
phy vanished;  he  groaned  aloud,  and  re-entered  the  chamber 
just  as  his  vizier  and  the  chief  of  his  guard  broke  upon  his 
solitude. 

The  old  vizier  attempted  to  speak,  but  his  voice  failed  him. 

"It  is  time,  then,  to  depart,"  said  Boabdil,  with  calmness; 
"  let  it  be  so :  render  up  the  palace  and  the  fortress,  and  join 
thy  friend,  no  more  thy  monarch,  in  his  new  home." 

He  stayed  not  for  reply;  he  hurried  on,  descended  to  the 
court,  flung  himself  on  his  barb,  and  with  a  small  and  sad- 
dened train  passed  through  the  gate  which  we  yet  survey,  by 
a  blackened  and  crumbling  tower  overgrown  with  vines  and 
ivy;  thence  amidst  gardens  now  appertaining  to  the  convent 
of  the  victor  faith,  he  took  his  mournful  and  unwitnessed 
way.  When  he  came  to  the  middle  of  the  hill  that  rises 
above  those  gardens,  the  steel  of  the  Spanish  armour  gleamed 
upon  him  as  the  detachment  sent  to  occupy  the  palace  marched 
over  the  summit  in  steady  order  and  profound  silence. 

At  the  head  of  this  vanguard  rode,  upon  a  snow-white 
palfrey,  the  Bishop  of  Avila,  followed  by  a  long  train  of 
barefooted  monks.  They  halted  as  Boabdil  approached,  and 
the  grave  bishop  saluted  him  with  the  air  of  one  who  addresses 
an  infidel  and  an  inferior.     With  the  quick  sense  of  dignity 


172  LEILA. 

common  to  the  great,  and  yet  more  to  the  fallen,  Boabdil  felt, 
but  resented  not,  the  pride  of  the  ecclesiastic.  "Go,  Chris- 
tian," said  he,  mildly,  "the  gates  of  the  Alhambra  are  open, 
and  Allah  has  bestowed  the  palace  and  the  city  upon  your 
king.  May  his  virtues  atone  the  faults  of  Boabdil!"  So 
saying,  and  waiting  no  answer,  he  rode  on,  without  looking 
to  the  right  or  left.  The  Spaniards  also  pursued  their  way. 
The  sun  had  fairly  risen  above  the  mountains  when  Boabdil 
and  his  train  beheld,  from  the  eminence  on  which  they  were, 
the  whole  armament  of  Spain  j  and  at  the  same  moment, 
louder  than  the  tramp  of  horse  or  the  flash  of  arms,  was 
heard  distinctly  the  solemn  chant  of  Te  Deum,  which  pre- 
ceded the  blaze  of  the  unfurled  and  lofty  standards.  Boabdil, 
himself  still  silent,  heard  the  groans  and  exclamations  of  his 
train;  he  turned  to  cheer  or  chide  them,  and  then  saw  from 
his  own  watch-tower,  with  the  sun  shining  full  upon  its  pure 
and  dazzling  surface,  the  silver  cross  of  Spain.  His  Alham- 
bra was  already  in  the  hands  of  the  foe,  while  beside  that 
badge  of  the  holy  war  waved  the  gay  and  flaunting  flag  of 
Saint  lago,  the  canonized  Mars  of  the  chivalry  of  Spain. 

At  that  sight  the  king's  voice  died  within  him;  he  gave  the 
rein  to  his  barb,  impatient  to  close  the  fatal  ceremonial,  and 
did  not  slacken  his  speed  till  almost  within  bowshot  of  the 
first  ranks  of  the  army.  Never  had  Christian  war  assumed 
a  more  splendid  or  imposing  aspect.  Far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  extended  the  glittering  and  gorgeous  lines  of  that  goodly 
power,  bristling  with  sunlit  spears  and  blazoned  banners; 
while  beside  murmured  and  glowed  and  danced,  the  silver 
and  laughing  Xenil,  careless  what  lord  should  possess,  for 
his  little  day,  the  banks  that  bloomed  by  its  everlasting 
course.  By  a  small  mosque  halted  the  flower  of  the  army. 
Surrounded  by  the  arch-priests  of  that  mighty  hierarchy,  the 
peers  and  princes  of  a  court  that  rivalled  the  Kolands  of 
Charlemagne,  was  seen  the  kingly  form  of  Ferdinand  him- 
self, with  Isabel  at  his  right  hand,  and  the  high-born  dames 
of  Spain,  relieving,  with  their  gay  colours  and  sparkling 
gems,  the  sterner  splendour  of  the  crested  helmet  and  pol- 
ished mail. 


LEILA.  173 

Within  sight  of  the  royal  group  Boabdil  halted,  composed 
his  aspect  so  as  best  to  conceal  his  soul,  and,  a  little  in 
advance  of  his  scanty  train,  but  never,  in  mien  and  majesty, 
more  a  king,  the  son  of  Abdallah  met  his  haughty  conqueror. 

At  the  sight  of  his  princely  countenance  and  golden  hair, 
his  comely  and  commanding  beauty,  made  more  touching  by 
youth,  a  thrill  of  compassionate  admiration  ran  through  that 
assembly  of  the  brave  and  fair.  Ferdinand  and  Isabel  slowly 
advanced  to  meet  their  late  rival,  — their  new  subject;  and  as 
Boabdil  would  have  dismounted,  the  Spanish  king  placed  his 
hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "Brother  and  prince,"  said  he, 
"  forget  thy  sorrows ;  and  may  our  friendship  hereafter  con- 
sole thee  for  reverses  against  which  thou  hast  contended  as  a 
hero  and  a  king, — resisting  man,  but  resigned  at  length  to 
God!" 

Boabdil  did  not  affect  to  return  this  bitter,  but  uninten- 
tional, mockery  of  compliment.  He  bowed  his  head,  and 
remained  a  moment  silent;  then,  motioning  to  his  train,  four 
of  his  officers  approached,  and  kneeling  beside  Ferdinand, 
proffered  to  him  upon  a  silver  buckler  the  keys  of  the  city. 

"0  king,"  then  said  Boabdil,  "accept  the  keys  of  the  last 
hold  which  has  resisted  the  arms  of  Spain !  The  empire  of 
the  Moslem  is  no  more.  Thine  are  the  city  and  the  people 
of  Granada;  yielding  to  thy  prowess,  they  yet  confide  in  thy 
mercy." 

"They  do  well,"  said  the  king;  "our  promises  shall  not  be 
broken.  But  since  we  know  the  gallantry  of  Moorish  cava- 
liers, not  to  us,  but  to  gentler  hands,  shall  the  keys  of  Granada 
be  surrendered." 

Thus  saying,  Ferdinand  gave  the  keys  to  Isabel,  who  would 
have  addressed  some  soothing  flatteries  to  Boabdil.  But  the 
emotion  and  excitement  were  too  much  for  her  compassionate 
heart,  heroine  and  queen  though  she  was ;  and  when  she  lifted 
her  eyes  upon  the  calm  and  pale  features  of  the  fallen  mon- 
arch, the  tears  gushed  from  them  irresistibly,  and  her  voice 
died  in  murmurs.  A  faint  flush  overspread  the  features  of 
Boabdil,  and  there  was  a  momentary  pause  of  embarrassment 
which  the  Moor  was  the  first  to  break. 


174  LEILA. 

"Fair  queen,"  said  he,  with  mournful  and  pathetic  dignity, 
"  thou  canst  read  the  heart  that  thy  generous  sympathy  touches 
and  subdues:  this  is  thy  last,  nor  least  glorious,  conquest. 
But  I  detain  you;  let  not  my  aspect  cloud  your  triumph. 
Suffer  me  to  say  farewell." 

"May  we  not  hint  at  the  blessed  possibility  of  conversion?" 
whispered  the  pious  queen  through  her  tears  to  her  royal 
consort. 

"Not  now,  not  now,  by  Saint  lago!"  returned  Ferdinand, 
quickly,  and  in  the  same  tone,  willing  himself  to  conclude  a 
painful  conference.  He  then  added  aloud :  "  Go,  my  brother, 
and  fair  fortune  with  you!     Forget  the  past." 

Boabdil  smiled  bitterly,  saluted  the  royal  pair  with  pro- 
found and  silent  reverence,  and  rode  slowly  on,  leaving  the 
army  below,  as  he  ascended  the  path  that  led  to  his  new  prin- 
cipality beyond  the  Alpuxarras.  As  the  trees  snatched  the 
Moorish  cavalcade  from  the  view  of  the  king,  Ferdinand 
ordered  the  army  to  recommence  its  march ;  and  trumpet  and 
cymbal  presently  sent  their  music  to  the  ear  of  the  Moslems. 

Boabdil  spurred  on  at  full  speed  till  his  panting  charger 
halted  at  the  little  village  where  his  mother,  his  slaves,  and 
his  faithful  Amine  (sent  on  before)  awaited  him.  Joining 
these,  he  proceeded  without  delay  upon  his  melancholy  path. 

They  ascended  that  eminence  which  is  the  pass  into  the 
Alpuxarras.  From  its  height,  the  vale,  the  rivers,  the  spires, 
the  towers  of  Granada  broke  gloriously  upon  the  view  of  the 
little  band.  They  halted  mechanically  and  abruptly;  every 
eye  was  turned  to  the  beloved  scene.  The  proud  shame  of 
baffled  warriors,  the  tender  memories  of  home,  of  childhood, 
of  fatherland,  swelled  every  heart  and  gushed  from  every  eye. 
Suddenly  the  distant  boom  of  artillery  broke  from  the  citadel, 
and  rolled  along  the  sunlit  valley  and  crystal  river.  A  uni- 
versal wail  burst  from  the  exiles;  it  smote,  it  overpowered 
the  heart  of  the  ill-starred  king,  in  vain  seeking  to  wrap  him- 
self in  Eastern  pride  or  Stoical  philosophy.  The  tears  gushed 
from  his  eyes,  and  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

Then  said  his  haughty  mother,  gazing  at  him  with  hard  and 
disdainful  eyes,  in  that  unjust  and  memorable  reproach  which 


LEILA.  175 

history  has  preserved:  "Ay,  weep  like  a  woman  over  what 
thou  couldst  not  defend  like  a  man ! " 

Boabdil  raised  his  countenance  with  indignant  majesty, 
when  he  felt  his  hand  tenderly  clasped,  and,  turning  round, 
saw  Amine  by  his  side. 

"Heed  her  not,  heed  her  not,  Boabdil!"  said  the  slave; 
"never  didst  thou  seem  to  me  more  noble  than  in  that  sor- 
row. Thou  wert  a  hero  for  thy  throne,  but  feel  still,  0  light 
of  mine  eyes,  a  woman  for  thy  people ! " 

"God  is  great,"  said  Boabdil,  "and  God  comforts  me  still! 
Thy  lips,  which  never  flattered  me  in  my  power,  have  no 
reproach  for  me  in  my  affliction ! " 

He  said,  and  smiled  upon  Amine:  it  was  her  hour  of 
triumph. 

The  band  wound  slowly  on  through  the  solitary  defiles; 
and  that  place  where  the  king  wept,  and  the  woman  soothed, 
is  still  called  "El  ultimo  suspiro  del  Moro,"  —  The  last 

SIGH   OF   THE  MoOr! 


THE  END. 


PAUSANIAS    THE    SPARTAN. 


12 


^DeBfcatiom 


TO 

THE  REV.  BENJAMIN  HALL  KENNEDY,  D.D., 

CANON  OP  ELY, 

AND  REGIUS  PROFESSOR  OF  GREEK  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CAMBRIDGE. 


My  dear  Dr.  Kennedy,  —  Revised  by  your  helpful  hand, 
and  corrected  by  your  accurate  scholarship,  to  whom  may 
these  pages  be  so  fitly  inscribed  as  to  that  one  of  their 
author's  earliest  and  most  honoured  friends  ^  whose  gen- 
erous assistance  has  enabled  me  to  place  them  before  the 
public  in  their  present  form? 

It  is  fully  fifteen,  if  not  twenty,  years  since  my  father 
commenced  the  composition  of  an  historical  romance  on 
the  subject  of  Pausanias,  the  Spartan  Regent.  Circum- 
stances, which  need  not  here  be  recorded,  compelled  him 
to  lay  aside  the  work  thus  begun.  But  the  subject  con- 
tinued to  haunt  his  imagination  and  occupy  his  thoughts. 
He  detected  in  it  singular  opportunities  for  effective  exer- 
cise of  the  gifts  most  peculiar  to  his  genius,  and  repeat- 
edly, in  the  intervals  of  other  literary  labour,  he  returned 
to  the  task  which,  though  again  and  again  interrupted, 
was  never  abandoned.  To  that  rare  combination  of  the 
imaginative  and  practical  faculties  which  characterized 

1  The  late  Lord  Lytton,  in  his  unpublished  autobiographical  memoirs,  de- 
scribing his  contemporaries  at  Cambridge,  speaks  of  Dr.  Kennedy  as  "  a  young 
giant  of  learning."  —  L. 


180  PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN. 

my  father's  intellect,  and  received  from  his  life  such 
varied  illustration,  the  story  of  Pausanias,  indeed,  briefly 
as  it  is  told  by  Thucydides  and  Plutarch,  addressed  itself 
vrith  singular  force.  The  vast  conspiracy  of  the  Spartan 
Regent,  had  it  been  successful,  would  have  changed  the 
whole  course  of  Grecian  history.  To  any  student  of 
political  phenomena,  but  more  especially  to  one  who, 
during  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  had  been  personally 
engaged  in  active  politics,  the  story  of  such  a  conspiracy 
could  not  fail  to  be  attractive.  To  the  student  of  human 
nature  the  character  of  Pausanias  himself  offers  sources 
of  the  deepest  interest;  and  in  the  strange  career  and 
tragic  fate  of  the  great  conspirator,  an  imagination  fasci- 
nated by  the  supernatural  must  have  recognized  remarka- 
ble elements  of  awe  and  terror.  A  few  months  previous 
to  his  death,  I  asked  my  father  whether  he  had  abandoned 
all  intention  of  finishing  his  romance  of  "Pausanias." 
He  replied,  "On  the  contrary,  I  am  finishing  it  now," 
and  entered,  with  great  animation,  into  a  discussion  of 
the  subject  and  its  capabilities.  This  reply  to  my  inquiry 
surprised  and  impressed  me;  for,  as  you  are  aware,  my 
father  was  then  engaged  in  the  simultaneous  composition 
of  two  other  and  very  different  works,  —  "  Kenelm  Chil- 
lingly "  and  "  The  Parisians. "  It  was  the  last  time  he 
ever  spoke  to  me  about  "  Pausanias ; "  but  from  what  he 
then  said  of  it  I  derived  an  impression  that  the  book  was 
all  but  completed,  and  needing  only  a  few  finishing  touches 
to  be  ready  for  publication  at  no  distant  date. 

This  impression  was  confirmed,  subsequent  to  my 
father's  death,  by  a  letter  of  instructions  about  his  post- 
humous papers  which  accompanied  his  will.  In  that 
letter,  dated  1856,  special  allusion  is  made  to  "Pau- 
sanias "  as  a  work  already  far  advanced  towards  its 
conclusion. 

You,  to  whom,  in  your  kind  and  careful  revision  of  it, 


DEDICATION.  181 

this  unfinished  work  has  suggested  many  questions  — 
which,  alas!  I  cannot  answer  —  as  to  the  probable  con- 
duct and  fate  of  its  fictitious  characters,  will  readily 
understand  my  reluctance  to  surrender  an  impression 
seemingly  so  well  justified.  I  did  not  indeed  cease  to 
cherish  it  until  reiterated  and  exhaustive  search  had 
failed  to  recover  from  the  "  wallet "  wherein  Time  "  puts 
alms  for  oblivion,"  more  than  those  few  imperfect  frag- 
ments which,  by  your  valued  help,  are  here  arranged  in 
such  order  as  to  carry  on  the  narrative  of  "  Pausanias, " 
with  no  solution  of  continuity,  to  the  middle  of  the  sec- 
ond volume. 

There  the  manuscript  breaks  off.  Was  it  ever  con- 
tinued farther  ?  I  know  not.  Many  circumstances  in- 
duce me  to  believe  that  the  conception  had  long  been 
carefully  completed  in  the  mind  of  its  author ;  but  he  has 
left  behind  him  only  a  very  meagre  and  imperfect  indica- 
tion of  the  course  which,  beyond  the  point  where  it  is 
broken,  his  narrative  was  intended  to  follow.  In  the 
presence  of  this  fact,  I  have  had  to  choose  between  the 
total  suppression  of  the  fragment,  and  the  publication  of 
it  in  its  present  form.  My  choice  has  not  been  made 
without  hesitation ;  but  I  trust  that,  from  many  points  of 
view,  the  following  pages  will  be  found  to  justify  it. 

Judiciously  (as  I  cannot  but  think)  for  the  purposes  of 
his  fiction,  my  father  has  taken  up  the  story  of  Pausanias 
at  a  period  subsequent  to  the  battle  of  Plataea,  when  the 
Spartan  Regent,  as  admiral  of  the  United  Greek  fleet  in  the 
waters  of  Byzantium,  was  at  the  summit  of  his  power  and 
reputation.  Mr.  Grote  in  his  great  work  expresses  the 
opinion  (which  certainly  cannot  be  disputed  by  unbiased 
readers  of  Thucydides)  that  the  victory  of  Plataea  was  not 
attributable  to  any  remarkable  abilities  on  the  part  of 
Pausanias;  but  Mr.  Grote  fairly  recognizes  as  quite  ex- 
ceptional the  fame  and  authority  accorded  to  Pausanias 


182  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

after  the  battle  by  all  the  Hellenic  States,  the  influence 
which  his  name  commanded,  and  the  awe  which  his  char- 
acter inspired.  Not  to  the  mere  fact  of  his  birth  as  a 
Heracleid,  not  to  the  lucky  accident  (if  such  it  were)  of 
his  success  at  Platasa,  and  certainly  not  to  his  undisputed 
(but  surely  by  no  means  uncommon)  physical  courage,  is 
it  possible  to  attribute  the  peculiar  position  which  this 
remarkable  man  so  long  occupied  in  the  estimation  of  his 
/contemporaries.  For  the  little  that  we  know  about  Pau- 
sanias  we  are  mainly  dependent  upon  Athenian  writers, 
who  must  have  been  strongly  prejudiced  against  him. 
Mr.  Grote,  adopting  (as  any  modern  historian  needs  must 
do)  the  narrative  so  handed  down  to  him,  never  once 
pauses  to  question  its  estimate  of  the  character  of  a  man 
who  was  at  one  time  the  glory,  and  at  another  the  terror, 
of  all  Greece.  Yet  in  comparing  the  summary  proceed- 
ings taken  against  Leotychides  with  the  extreme,  and 
seemingly  pusillanimous,  deference  paid  to  Pausanias  by 
the  ephors  long  after  they  possessed  the  most  alarming 
proofs  of  his  treason,  Mr.  Grote  observes,  without  attempt- 
ing to  account  for  the  fact,  that  Pausanias,  though  only  re- 
gent, was  far  more  powerful  than  any  Spartan  king.  Why 
so  powerful  ?  Obviously,  because  he  possessed  uncom- 
mon force  of  character, —  a  force  of  character  strikingly 
attested  by  every  known  incident  of  his  career,  and  which, 
when  concentrated  upon  the  conception  and  execution  of 
vast  designs  (even  if  those  designs  be  criminal),  must  be 
recognized  as  the  special  attribute  of  genius.  Thucy- 
dides,  Plutarch,  Diodorus,  Grote,  all  these  writers  as- 
cribe solely  to  the  administrative  incapacity  of  Pausanias 
that  offensive  arrogance  which  characterized  his  command 
at  Byzantium,  and  apparently  cost  Sparta  the  loss  of  her 
maritime  hegemony.  But  here  is  precisely  one  of  those 
problems  in  public  policy  and  personal  conduct  which  the 
historian  bequeaths  to  the  imaginative  writer,  and  which 


DEDICATION.  183 

needs,  for  its  solution,  a  profound  knowledge  rather  of 
human  nature  than  of  books.  For  dealing  with  such  a 
problem  my  father,  in  addition  to  the  intuitive  penetra- 
tion of  character  and  motive  which  is  common  to  every 
great  romance  writer,  certainly  possessed  two  qualifica- 
tions special  to  himself, —  the  habit  of  dealing  practicallt/  ^ 
with  political  questions,  and  experience  in  the  active 
management  of  men.  His  explanation  of  the  policy  of 
Pausanias  at  Byzantium,  if  it  be  not  (as  I  think  it  is)  the 
right  one,  is  at  least  the  only  one  yet  offered.  I  venture 
to  think  that,  historically,  it  merits  attention,  as,  from 
the  imaginative  point  of  view,  it  is  undoubtedly  felicitous. 
By  elevating  our  estimate  of  Pausanias  as  a  statesman,  it 
increases  our  interest  in  him  as  a  man. 

The  author  of  "  Pausanias  "  does  not  merely  tell  us  that 
his  hero,  when  in  conference  with  the  Spartan  commis- 
sioners, displayed  "great  natural  powers  which,  rightly 
trained,  might  have  made  him  not  less  renowned  in  coun- 
cil than  in  war,"  but  he  gives  us,  though  briefly,  the 
arguments  used  by  Pausanias.  He  presents  to  us  the 
image,  always  interesting,  of  a  man  who  grasps  firmly 
the  clear  conception  of  a  definite  but  difiicult  policy,  for 
success  in  which  he  is  dependent  on  the  conscious  or 
involuntary  co-operation  of  men  impenetrable  to  that  con- 
ception, and  possessed  of  a  collective  authority  even 
greater  than  his  own.  To  retain  Sparta  temporarily  at 
the  head  of  Greece  was  an  ambition  quite  consistent  with 
the  more  criminal  designs  of  Pausanias;  and  his  whole 
conduct  at  Byzantium  is  rendered  more  intelligible  than 
it  appears  in  history,  when  he  points  out  that  "  for  Sparta 
to  maintain  her  ascendency  two  things  are  needful,  — 
first,  to  continue  the  war  by  land;  secondly,  to  disgust 
the  lonians  with  their  sojourn  at  Byzantium,  to  send  them 
with  their  ships  back  to  their  own  havens,  and  so  leave 
Hellas  under  the  sole  guardianship  of  the  Spartans  and 


184  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

their  Peloponnesian  allies. "  And  who  has  not  learned, 
in  a  later  school,  the  wisdom  of  the  Spartan  commis- 
sioners ?  Do  not  their  utterances  sound  familiar  to  us  ? 
"Increase  of  dominion  is  waste  of  life  and  treasure. 
Sparta  is  content  to  hold  her  own.  What  care  we  who 
leads  the  Greeks  into  blows  ?  The  fewer  blows  the 
better.  Brave  men  fight  if  they  must;  wise  men  never 
fight  if  they  can  help  it. "  Of  this  scene  and  some  others 
in  the  first  volume  of  the  present  fragment  (notably  the 
scene  in  which  the  Regent  confronts  the  allied  chiefs,  and 
defends  himself  against  the  charge  of  connivance  at  the 
escape  of  the  Persian  prisoners),  I  should  have  been 
tempted  to  say  that  they  could  not  have  been  written 
without  personal  experience  of  political  life,  if  the  inter- 
view between  Wallenstein  and  the  Swedish  ambassadors 
in  Schiller's  great  trilogy  did  not  recur  to  my  recollection 
as  I  write.  The  language  of  the  ambassadors  in  that  in- 
terview is  a  perfect  manual  of  practical  diplomacy;  and 
yet  in  practical  diplomacy  Schiller  had  no  personal  ex- 
perience. There  are,  indeed,  no  limits  to  the  creative 
power  of  genius.  But  it  is  perhaps  the  practical  politi- 
cian who  will  be  most  interested  by  the  chapters  in  which 
Pausanias  explains  his  policy  or  defends  his  position. 

In  publishing  a  romance  which  its  author  has  left  un- 
finished, I  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  indicate  briefly 
what  I  believe  to  have  been  the  general  scope  of  its  design, 
and  the  probable  progress  of  its  narrative. 

The  "  domestic  interest "  of  that  narrative  is  supplied 
by  the  story  of  Cleonice, —  a  story  which,  briefly  told  by 
Plutarch,  suggests  one  of  the  most  tragic  situations  it  is 
possible  to  conceive.  The  pathos  and  terror  of  this  dark, 
weird  episode  in  a  life  which  history  herself  invests  with 
all  the  character  of  romance,  long  haunted  the  imagina- 
tion of  Byron,  and  elicited  from  Goethe  one  of  the  most 
whimsical  illustrations  of  the  astonishing  absurdity  into 


DEDICATION.  185 

which  criticism  sometimes  tumbles  when  it  "  o'erleaps  it- 
self and  falls  o'  the  other. " 

Writing  of  "  Manfred  "  and  its  author,  he  says :  — 

"  There  are,  properly  speaking,  two  females  whose  phantoms  forever 
haunt  him,  and  which,  in  this  piece  also,  perform  principal  parts,  —  one 
under  the  name  of  Astarte,  the  other  without  form  or  actual  presence, 
and  merely  a  voice.  Of  the  horrid  occurrence  which  took  place  with 
the  former,  the  following  is  related :  When  a  bold  and  enterprising 
young  man,  he  won  the  affections  of  a  Florentine  lady.  Her  husband 
discovered  the  amour,  and  murdered  his  wife.  But  the  murderer  was 
the  same  night  found  dead  in  the  street  and  there  was  no  one  to  whom 
any  suspicion  could  be  attached.  Lord  Byron  removed  from  Florence, 
and  these  spirits  haunted  him  all  his  life  after.  This  romantic  incident  is 
rendered  highly  probable  by  innumerable  allusions  to  it  in  his  poems. 
As,  for  instance,  when  turning  his  sad  contemplations  inwards,  he  ap- 
plies to  himself  the  fatal  history  of  the  king  of  Sparta.  It  is  as  follows : 
Pausanias,  a  Lacedaemonian  general,  acquires  glory  by  the  important  vic- 
tory at  Plataea,  but  afterwards  forfeits  the  confidence  of  his  countrymen 
by  his  arrogance,  obstinacy,  and  secret  intrigues  with  the  common  enemy. 
This  man  draws  upon  himself  the  heavy  guilt  of  innocent  blood,  which 
attends  him  to  his  end ;  for,  while  commanding  the  fleet  of  the  allied 
Greeks  in  the  Black  Sea,  he  is  inflamed  with  a  violent  passion  for  a 
Byzantine  maiden.  After  long  resistance,  he  at  length  obtains  her  from 
her  parents,  and  she  is  to  be  delivered  up  to  him  at  night.  She  modestly 
desires  the  servant  to  put  out  the  lamp,  and  while  groping  her  way  in 
the  dark,  she  overturns  it.  Pausanias  is  awakened  from  his  sleep ;  appre- 
hensive of  an  attack  from  murderers,  he  seizes  his  sword  and  destroys 
his  mistress.  The  horrid  sight  never  leaves  him;  her  shade  pursues 
him  unceasingly ;  and  in  vain  he  implores  aid  of  the  gods  and  the  .ex- 
orcising priests.  That  poet  must  have  a  lacerated  heart  who  selects 
such  a  scene  from  antiquity,  appropriates  it  to  himself,  and  burdens  his 
tragic  image  with  it."  ^ 

It  is  extremely  characteristic  of  Byron  that,  instead  of 
resenting  this  charge  of  murder,  he  was  so  pleased  by  the 
criticism  in  which  it  occurs  that  he  afterwards  dedicated 
"The  Deformed  Transformed"  to  Goethe.  Mr.  Grote  re- 
peats the  story  above  alluded  to,  with  all  the  sanction  of 
his  grave  authority,  and  even  mentions  the  name  of  the 
1  Moore,  Life  and  Letters  of  Lord  Byron,  p.  723. 


186  PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN. 

young  lady, —  apparently  for  the  sake  of  adding  a  fe^W 
black  strokes  to  his  character  of  Pausanias.  But  the 
supernatural  part  of  the  legend  was  of  course  beneath  the 
notice  of  a  nineteenth-century  critic,  and  he  passes  it  by. 
This  part  of  the  story  is,  however,  essential  to  the  psycho- 
logical interest  of  it;  for  whether  it  be  that  Pausanias 
supposed  himself,  or  that  contemporary  gossips  supposed 
him,  to  be  haunted  by  the  phantom  of  the  woman  he  had 
loved  and  slain,  the  fact  in  either  case  affords  a  lurid 
glimpse  into  the  inner  life  of  the  man, —  just  as,  although 
Goethe's  murder-story  about  Byron  is  ludicrously  untrue, 
yet  the  fact  that  such  a  story  was  circulated,  and  could 
be  seriously  repeated  by  such  a  man  as  Goethe  without 
being  resented  by  Byron  himself,  offers  significant  illus- 
tration both  of  what  Byron  was  and  of  what  he  appeared 
to  his  contemporaries.  Grote  also  assigns  the  death  of 
Cleonice  to  that  period  in  the  life  of  Pausanias  when  he 
was  in  the  command  of  the  allies  at  Byzantium,  and  refers 
to  it  as  one  of  the  numerous  outrages  whereby  Pausanias 
abused  and  disgraced  the  authority  confided  to  him.  Plu- 
tarch, however,  who  tells  the  story  in  greater  detail,  dis- 
tinctly fixes  the  date  of  its  catastrophe  subsequent  to  the 
return  of  the  regent  to  Byzantium,  as  a  solitary  volunteer, 
in  the  trireme  of  Hermione.  The  following  is  his  account 
of  the  affair :  — 

"  It  is  related  that  Pausanias  when  at  Byzantium  sought,  with  criminal 
purpose,  the  love  of  a  young  lady  of  good  family,  named  Cleonice.  The 
parents,  yielding  to  fear  or  necessity,  suffered  him  to  carry  away  their 
daughter.  Before  entering  his  chamber  she  requested  that  the  light 
might  be  extinguished,  and  in  darkness  and  silence  she  approached  the 
couch  of  Pausanias,  who  was  already  asleep.  In  so  doing  she  accident- 
ally upset  the  lamp.  Pausanias,  suddenly  aroused  from  slumber,  and 
supposing  that  some  enemy  was  about  to  assassinate  him,  seized  his 
sword,  which  lay  by  his  bedside,  and  with  it  struck  the  maiden  to  the 
ground.  She  died  of  her  wound,  and  from  that  moment  repose  was  ban- 
ished from  the  life  of  Pausanias.     A  spectre  appeared  to  him  every 


DEDICATION.  187 

night  in  his  sleep,  and  repeated  to  him  in  reproachful  tones  this  hex- 
ameter verse,  — 

"  *  Whither  I  wait  thee  march,  and  receive  the  doom  thou  deservest, 
Sooner  or  later,  but  ever,  to  man  crime  bringeth  disaster.' 

The  allies,  scandalized  by  this  misdeed,  concerted  with  Cimon,  and  be- 
sieged Pausanias  in  Byzantium.  But  he  succeeded  in  escaping.  Con- 
tinually troubled  by  the  phantom,  he  took  refuge,  it  is  said,  at  Heraclea 
in  that  temple  where  the  souls  of  the  dead  are  evoked.  He  appealed  to 
Cleonice,  and  conjured  her  to  mitigate  his  torment.  She  appeared  to 
him,  and  told  him  that  on  his  return  to  Sparta  he  would  attain  the  end 
of  his  sufferings  ;  indicating,  as  it  would  seem,  by  these  enigmatic  words, 
the  death  which  there  awaited  him.  This  [adds  Plutarch]  is  a  story  told 
by  most  of  the  historians."  ^ 

I  feel  no  doubt  that  this  version  of  the  story,  or  at  least 
the  general  outline  of  it,  would  have  been  followed  by  the 
romance  had  my  father  lived  to  complete  it.  Some  modi- 
fication of  its  details  would  doubtless  have  been  necessary 
for  the  purposes  of  fiction.  But  that  the  Cleonice  of  the 
novel  is  destined  to  die  by  the  hand  of  her  lover,  is  clearly 
indicated.  To  me  it  seems  that  considerable  skill  and 
judgment  are  shown  in  the  pains  taken,  at  the  very  open- 
ing of  the  book,  to  prepare  the  mind  of  the  reader  for  an 
incident  which  would  have  been  intolerably  painful,  and 
must  have  prematurely  ended  the  whole  narrative  interest, 
had  the  character  of  Cleonice  been  drawn  otherwise  than 
as  we  find  it  in  this  first  portion  of  the  book.  From  the 
outset  she  appears  before  us  under  the  shadow  of  a  tragic 
fatality.  Of  that  fatality  she  is  herself  intuitively  con- 
scious, ^nd  with  it  her  whole  being  is  in  harmony.  No 
sooner  do  we  recognize  her  real  character  than  we  per- 
ceive that  for  such  a  character  there  can  be  no  fit  or  satis- 
factory issue  from  the  difficulties  of  her  position  in  any 
conceivable  combination  of  earthly  circumstances.  But 
she  is  not  of  the  earth  earthly.  Her  thoughts  already 
habitually  hover  on  the  dim  frontier  of  some  vague  spirit- 
1  Plutarch,  Life  of  Cimon. 


188  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

ual  region  in  which  her  love  seeks  refuge  from  the  hope- 
less realities  of  her  life ;  and  recognizing  this  betimes,  we 
are  prepared  to  see  above  the  hand  of  her  ill-fated  lover, 
when  it  strikes  her  down  in  the  dark,  the  merciful  and 
releasing  hand  of  her  natural  destiny. 

But  assuming  the  author  to  have  adopted  Plutarch's 
chronology,  and  deferred  the  death  of  Cleonice  till  the 
return  of  Pausanias  to  Byzantium  (the  latest  date  to  which 
he  could  possibly  have  deferred  it),  this  catastrophe  must 
still  have  occurred  somewhere  in  the  course,  or  at  the 
close,  of  his  second  volume.  There  would,  in  that  case, 
have  still  remained  about  nine  years  (and  those  the  most 
eventful)  of  his  hero's  career  to  be  narrated.  The  prema- 
ture removal  of  the  heroine  from  the  narrative  so  early  in 
the  course  of  it  would  therefore,  at  first  sight,  appear  to 
be  a  serious  defect  in  the  conception  of  this  romance. 
Here  it  is,  however,  that  the  credulous  gossip  of  the  old 
biographer  comes  to  the  rescue  of  the  modern  artist.  I 
apprehend  that  the  Cleonice  of  the  novel  would,  after  her 
death,  have  been  still  sensibly  present  to  the  reader's 
imagination  throughout  the  rest  of  the  romance.  She 
would  then  have  moved  through  it  like  a  fate,  reappear- 
ing in  the  most  solemn  moments  of  the  story,  and  at  all 
times  apparent,  even  when  unseen,  in  her  visible  influence 
upon  the  fierce  and  passionate  character,  the  sombre  and 
turbulent  career,  of  her  guilty  lover.  In  short,  we  may 
fairly  suppose  that  in  all  the  closing  scenes  of  the  tragedy, 
Cleonice  would  have  still  figured  and  acted  as  one  t)f  those 
supernatural  agencies  which  my  father,  following  the  ex- 
ample of  his  great  predecessor,  Scott,  did  not  scruple  to 
introduce  into  the  composition  of  historical  romance.^ 

Without  the   explanation    here  suggested,  those  meta- 
physical  conversations  between   Cleonice,   Alcman,    and 
Pausanias,  which  occupy  the  opening  chapters  of  Book 
y        1  Harold. 


DEDICATION.  189 

II. ,  might  be  deemed  superfluous.  But,  in  fact,  they  are 
essential  to  the  preparation  of  the  catastrophe ;  and  that 
catastrophe,  if  reached,  would  undoubtedly  have  revealed 
to  any  reflective  reader  their  important  connection  with 
the  narrative  which  they  now  appear  to  retard  somewhat 
unduly. 

Quite  apart  from  the  unfinished  manuscript  of  this  story 
of  Pausanias,  and  in  another  portion  of  my  father's  papers 
which  have  no  reference  to  this  story,  I  have  discovered 
the  following,  undated,  memorandum  of  the  destined  con- 
tents of  the  second  and  third  volumes  of  the  work :  — 

PAUSANIAS. 

VOL.    II. 

Lysander. — Sparta. — Ephors. — Decision  to  recall  Pausanias.     60. 


Pansanias  with  Pharnabazes. — On  the  point  of  success. — Xerxes'  daughter. 
— Interview  with  Cleonice. — Recalled.     60. 


Sparta. — Alcman  with  his  family.     60. 


Cleonice. — Antagoras.— Yields  to  suit  of  marriage.     60. 


Pausanias  suddenly  reappears  as  a  volunteer. — Scenes.    60. 


Pausanias  removes  Cleonice,  etc. — Conspiracy  against  him. — Up  to  Cleo- 
nice's  death.     100. 


His  expulsion  from  Byzantium. — His  despair. — His  journey  into  Thrace. 
— Scythians,  etc.     ? 

Heraclea. — Ghost.     60. 

His  return,  —  to  Colonae.     ? 


Antagoras  resolved  on  revenge.— Communicates  with  Sparta.     ? 


The  .  .  .  Conference  with  Alcman. — Pausanias  depends  on  Helots  and 
money.    40. 


His  return,  —  to  death.     1 20. 


190  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN. 

This  is  the  only  indication  I  can  find  of  the  intended 
conclusion  of  the  story.  Meagre  though  it  be,  however, 
it  sufficiently  suggests  the  manner  in  which  the  author  of 
the  romance  intended  to  deal  with  the  circumstances  of 
Cleonice's  death  as  related  by  Plutarch.  With  her  forci- 
ble removal  by  Pausanias,  or  her  willing  flight  with  him 
from  the  house  of  her  father,  it  would  probably  have  been 
difficult  to  reconcile  the  general  sentiment  of  the  romance, 
in  connection  with  any  circumstances  less  conceivable 
than  those  which  are  indicated  in  the  memorandum.  But 
in  such  circumstances  the  step  taken  by  Pausanias  might 
have  had  no  worse  motive  than  the  rescue  of  the  woman 
who  loved  him  from  forced  union  with  another;  and 
Cleonice's  assent  to  that  step  might  have  been  quite  com- 
patible with  the  purity  and  heroism  of  her  character.  In 
this  manner,  moreover,  a  strong  motive  is  prepared  for 
that  sentiment  of  revenge  on  the  part  of  Antagoras, 
whereby  the  dramatic  interest  of  the  story  might  be 
greatly  heightened  in  the  subsequent  chapters.  The  in- 
tended introduction  of  the  supernatural  element  is  also 
clearly  indicated.  But  apart  from  this,  fine  opportunities 
for  psychological  analysis  would  doubtless  have  occurred 
in  tracing  the  gradual  deterioration  of  such  a  character  as 
that  of  Pausanias  when,  deprived  of  the  guardian  influ- 
ence of  a  hope  passionate  but  not  impure,  its  craving  for 
fierce  excitement  must  have  been  stimulated  by  remorseful 
memories  and  impotent  despairs.  Indeed,  the  imperfect 
manuscript  now  printed  contains  only  the  exposition  of 
a  tragedy.  All  the  most  striking  effects,  all  the  strongest 
dramatic  situations,  have  been  reserved  for  the  pages  of 
the  manuscript  which,  alas !  are  either  lost  or  unwritten. 

Who  can  doubt,  for  instance,  how  effectually  in  the 
closing  scenes  of  this  tragedy  the  grim  image  of  Alithea 
might  have  assumed  the  place  assigned  to  it  by  history? 
All  that  we  now  see  is  the  preparation  made  for  its  effec- 


DEDICATION.  191 

tive  presentation  in  the  foreground  of  such  later  scenes, 
by  the  chapter  in  the  second  volume  describing  the  meet- 
ing between  Lysander  and  the  stern  mother  of  his  Spartan 
chief.  In  Lysander  himself,  moreover,  we  have  the  germ 
of  a  singularly  dramatic  situation.  How  would  Lysander 
act  in  the  final  struggle  which  his  character  and  fate  are 
already  preparing  for  him,  between  patriotism  and  friend- 
ship, his  fidelity  to  Pausanias,  and  his  devotion  to  Sparta  ? 
Is  Lysander 's  father  intended  for  that  ephor,  who,  in  the 
last  moment,  made  the  sign  that  warned  Pausanias  to 
take  refuge  in  the  temple  which  became  his  living  tomb  ? 
Probably.  Would  Themistocles,  who  was  so  seriously 
compromised  in  the  conspiracy  of  Pausanias,  have  ap- 
peared and  played  a  part  in  those  scenes  on  which  the 
curtain  must  remain  unlifted?  Possibly.  Is  Alcman  the 
Helot  who  revealed  to  the  ephors  the  gigantic  plots  of  his 
master  just  when  those  plots  were  on  the  eve  of  execu- 
tion? There  is  much  in  the  relations  between  Pausanias 
and  the  Mothon,  as  they  are  described  in  the  opening 
chapters  of  the  romance,  which  favours,  and  indeed  ren- 
ders almost  irresistible,  such  a  supposition.  But  then, 
on  the  other  hand,  what  genius  on  the  part  of  the  author 
could  reconcile  us  to  the  perpetration  by  his  hero  of  a 
crime  so  mean,  so  cowardly,  as  that  personal  perfidy  to 
which  history  ascribes  the  revelation  of  the  regent's  far 
more  excusable  treasons,  and  their  terrible  punishment? 

These  questions  must  remain  unanswered.  The  magi- 
cian can  wave  his  wand  no  more.  The  circle  is  broken, 
the  spells  are  scattered,  the  secret  lost.  The  images 
which  he  evoked,  and  which  he  alone  could  animate,  re- 
main before  us  incomplete,  semi-articulate,  unable  to 
satisfy  the  curiosity  they  inspire.  A  group  of  fragments, 
in  many  places  broken,  you  have  helped  me  to  restore. 
With  what  reverent  and  kindly  care,  with  what  disci- 
plined judgment  and  felicitous  suggestion,  you  have  ac- 


192  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

complished  the  difficult  task  so  generously  undertaken, 
let  me  here  most  gratefully  attest.  Beneath  the  sculp- 
tor's name,  allow  me  to  inscribe  upon  the  pedestal  your 
own;  and  accept  this  sincere  assurance  of  the  inherited 
esteem  and  personal  regard  with  which  I  am,  my  dear 
Dr.  Kennedy, 

Your  obliged  and  faithful 

Lytton. 

CiNTEA,  5  July,  1875. 


PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN, 


BOOK    L 


CHAPTER    I. 

On  one  of  the  quays  wliicli  bordered  the  unrivalled  harbour 
of  Byzantium,  more  than  twenty-three  centuries  before  the 
date  at  which  this  narrative  is  begun,  stood  two  Athenians. 
In  the  waters  of  the  haven  rode  the  vessels  of  the  Grecian 
fleet.  So  deep  was  the  basin,  in  which  the  tides  are  scarcely 
felt,^  that  the  prows  of  some  of  the  ships  touched  the  quays, 
and  the  setting  sun  glittered  upon  the  smooth  and  waxen  sur- 
faces of  the  prows  rich  with  diversified  colours  and  wrought 
gilding.  To  the  extreme  right  of  the  fleet,  and  nearly  oppo- 
site the  place  upon  which  the  Athenians  stood,  was  a  vessel 
still  more  profusely  ornamented  than  the  rest.  On  the  prow 
were  elaborately  carved  the  heads  of  the  twin  deities  of  the 
Laconian  mariner.  Castor  and  Pollux;  in  the  centre  of  the 
deck  was  a  wooden  edifice  or  'pavilion,  having  a  gilded  roof 
and  shaded  by  purple  awnings,  —  an  imitation  of  the  luxuri- 
ous galleys  of  the  Barbarian ;  while  the  parasemon,  or  flag,  as 
it  idly  waved  in  the  faint  breeze  of  the  gentle  evening,  exhib- 
ited the  terrible  serpent  which,  if  it  was  the  fabulous  type  of 
demigods  and  heroes,  might  also  be  regarded  as  an  emblem 
of  the  wily  but  stern  policy  of  the  Spartan  State.  Such  was 
the  galley  of  the  commander  of  the  armament  which  (after 
the  reduction  of  Cyprus)  had  but  lately  wrested  from  the 
yoke  of  Persia  that  link  between  her  European  and  Asiatic 

1  Gibbon,  c.  17. 
13 


194  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

domains,  that  key  of  the  Bosphorus,  "  the  Golden  Horn "  of 
Byzantium.^ 

High  above  all  other  Greeks  (Themistocles  alone  excepted) 
soared  the  fame  of  that  renowned  chief,  Pausanias,  regent  of 
Sparta  and  general  of  the  allied  troops  at  the  victorious  battle- 
field of  Platsea.  The  spot  on  which  the  Athenians  stood  was 
lonely  and  now  unoccupied,  save  by  themselves  and  the  sen- 
tries stationed  at  some  distance  on  either  hand.  The  larger 
proportion  of  the  crews  in  the  various  vessels  were  on  shore ; 
but  on  the  decks  idly  reclined  small  groups  of  sailors,  and  the 
murmur  of  their  voices  stole,  indistinguishably  blended,  upon 
the  translucent  air.  Behind  rose,  one  above  the  other,  the 
Seven  Hills,  on  which  long  afterwards  the  Emperor  Constan- 
tine  built  a  second  Eome;  and  over  these  heights,  even  then, 
buildings  were  scattered  of  various  forms  and  dates,  —  here 
the  pillared  temples  of  the  Greek  colonists,  to  whom  Byzan- 
tium owed  its  origin ;  there  the  light  roofs  and  painted  domes 
which  the  Eastern  conquerors  had  introduced. 

One  of  the  Athenians  was  a  man  in  the  meridian  of  man- 
hood, of  a  calm,  sedate,  but  somewhat  haughty  aspect;  the 
other  was  in  the  full  bloom  of  youth,  of  lofty  stature,  and 
with  a  certain  majesty  of  bearing ;  down  his  shoulders  flowed 
a  profusion  of  long  curled  hair,^  divided  in  the  centre  of  the 
forehead,  and  connected  with  golden  clasps,  in  which  was 
wrought  the  emblem  of  the  Athenian  nobles,  the  Grasshop- 
per, —  a  fashion  not  yet  obsolete,  as  it  had  become  in  the 
days  of  Thucydides.  Still,  to  an  observer  there  was  some- 
thing heavy  in  the  ordinary  expression  of  the  handsome  coun- 
tenance. His  dress  differed  from  the  earlier  fashion  of  the 
lonians;  it  dispensed  with  those  loose  linen  garments  which 
had  something  of  effeminacy  in  their  folds,  and  was  confined 
to  the  simple  and  statue-like  grace  that  characterized  the 

*  The  harbour  of  Constantinople,  which  may  be  considered  as  an  arm  of 
the  Bosphorus,  obtained  in  a  very  remote  period  the  denomination  of  the 
Golden  Horn.  The  curve  which  it  describes  might  be  compared  to  the 
horn  of  a  stag,  or,  as  it  should  seem,  with  more  propriety  to  that  of  an 
ox.  —  Gibbon,  c.  17  ;  Strabo,  1.  x. 

*  Ion,  apud  Plutarch. 


PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN.  195 

Dorian  garb.  Yet  tlie  clasp  that  fastened  the  chlamys  upon 
the  right  shoulder,  leaving  the  arm  free,  was  of  pure  gold  and 
exquisite  workmanship,  and  the  materials  of  the  simple  vest- 
ure were  of  a  quality  that  betokened  wealth  and  rank  in  the 
wearer. 

"Yes,  Cimon,"  said  the  elder  of  the  Athenians,  "yonder 
galley  itself  affords  sufficient  testimony  of  the  change  that  has 
come  over  the  haughty  Spartan.  It  is  difficult,  indeed,  to 
recognize  in  this  luxurious  satrap,  who  affects  the  dress,  the 
manners,  the  very  insolence  of  the  Barbarian,  that  Pausanias 
who,  after  the  glorious  day  of  Plataea,  ordered  the  slaves  to 
prepare  in  the  tent  of  Mardonius  such  a  banquet  as  would 
have  been  served  to  the  Persian,  while  his  own  Spartan  broth 
and  bread  were  set  beside  it,  in  order  that  he  might  utter  to 
the  chiefs  of  Greece  that  noble  pleasantry,  *  Behold  the  folly 
of  the  Persians,  who  forsook  such  splendour  to  plunder  such 
poverty. ' "  ^ 

"  Shame  upon  his  degeneracy,  and  thrice  shame ! "  said  the 
young  Cimon,  sternly.  "  I  love  the  Spartans  so  well  that  I 
blush  for  whatever  degrades  them.  And  all  Sparta  is  dwarfed 
by  the  effeminacy  of  her  chief." 

"Softly,  Cimon,'*  said  Aristides,  with  a  sober  smile. 
"  Whatever  surprise  we  may  feel  at  the  corruption  of  Pau- 
sanias, he  is  not  one  who  will  allow  us  to  feel  contempt. 
Through  all  the  voluptuous  softness  acquired  by  intercourse 
with  these  Barbarians,  the  strong  nature  of  the  descendant  of 
the  demigod  still  breaks  forth.  Even  at  the  distaff  I  recog- 
nize Alcides,  whether  for  evil  or  for  good.  Pausanias  is  one 
on  whom  our  most  anxious  gaze  must  be  duly  bent.  But  in 
this  change  of  his  I  rejoice;  the  gods  are  at  work  for  Athens. 
See  you  not  that,  day  after  day,  while  Pausanias  disgusts  the 
allies  with  the  Spartans  themselves,  he  throws  them  more 
and  more  into  the  arms  of  Athens?  Let  his  madness  go  on, 
and  ere  long  the  violet-crowned  city  will  become  the  queen  of 
the  seas." 

"Such  was  my  own  hope,"  said  Cimon,  his  face  assuming  a 
new  expression,  brightened  with  all  the  intelligence  of  ambi- 

1  Herodotus,  ix.  82. 


196  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAK 

tioii  and  pride ;  "  but  I  did  not  dare  own  it  to  myself  till  you 
spoke.  Several  officers  of  Ionia  and  the  Isles  have  already 
openly  and  loudly  proclaimed  to  me  their  wish  to  exchange 
the  Spartan  ascendency  for  the  Athenian." 

"And  with  all  your  love  for  Sparta,"  said  Aristides,  looking 
steadfastly  and  searchingly  at  his  comrade,  "you  would  not 
then  hesitate  to  rob  her  of  a  glory  which  you  might  bestow  on 
your  own  Athens?" 

"Ah,  am  I  not  Athenian?"  answered  Cimon,  with  a  deep 
passion  in  his  voice.  "  Though  my  great  father  perished  a 
victim  to  the  injustice  of  a  faction  j  though  he  who  had  saved 
Athens  from  the  Mede  died  in  the  Athenian  dungeon,  —  still, 
fatherless,  I  see  in  Athens  but  a  mother,  and  if  her  voice 
sounded  harshly  in  my  boyish  years,  in  manhood  I  have 
feasted  on  her  smiles.  Yes,  I  honour  Sparta,  but  I  love 
Athens.     You  have  my  answer." 

"You  speak  well,"  said  Aristides,  with  warmth;  "you  are 
worthy  of  the  destinies  for  which  I  foresee  that  the  son  of 
Miltiades  is  reserved.  Be  wary,  be  cautious;  above  all,  be 
smooth,  and  blend  with  men  of  every  state  and  grade.  I 
would  wish  that  the  allies  themselves  should  draw  the 
contrast  between  the  insolence  of  the  Spartan  chief  and 
the  courtesy  of  the  Athenians.  What  said  you  to  the  Ionian 
officers?" 

"  I  said  that  Athens  held  there  was  no  difference  between 
to  command  and  to  obey,  except  so  far  as  was  best  for  the  in- 
terests of  Greece;  that  as  on  the  field  of  Platsea,  when  the 
Tegeans  asserted  precedence  over  the  Athenians,  we,  the 
Athenian  army,  at  once  exclaimed,  through  your  voice, 
Aristides,  '  We  come  here  to  fight  the  Barbarian,  not  to  dis- 
pute amongst  ourselves ;  place  us  where  you  will, '  ^  —  even  so 
now,  while  the  allies  give  the  command  to  Sparta,  Sparta  we 
will  obey.  But  if  we  were  thought  by  the  Grecian  States  the 
fittest  leaders,  our  answer  would  be  the  same  that  we  gave  at 
Platsea,  *  Not  we,  but  Greece  be  consulted ;  place  us  where 
you  will ! '  " 

"Oh,  wise  Cimon,"  exclaimed  Aristides,  "I  have  no  cau- 
1  Plutarch  in  Vita  Aristides. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  197 

tion  to  bestow  on  you.  You  do  by  intuition  that  wbich.  I 
attempt  by  experience.  But  hark!  What  music  sounds 
in  the  distance, — the  airs  that  Lydia  borrowed  from  the 
East?" 

"And  for  which,"  said  Cimon,  sarcastically,  "Pausanias 
hath  abandoned  the  Dorian  flute." 

Soft,  airy,  and  voluptuous  were  indeed  the  sounds  which 
now,  from  the  streets  leading  upwards  from  the  quay,  floated 
along  the  delicious  air.  The  sailors  rose,  listening  and  eager, 
from  the  decks ;  there  was  once  more  bustle,  life,  and  anima- 
tion on  board  the  fleet.  From  several  of  the  vessels  the  trum- 
pets woke  a  sonorous  signal- note.  In  a  few  minutes  the  quays, 
before  so  deserted,  swarmed  with  the  Grecian  mariners,  who 
emerged  hastily,  whether  from  various  houses  in  the  haven, 
or  from  the  encampment  which  stretched  along  it,  and  hur- 
ried to  their  respective  ships.  On  board  the  galley  of  Pau- 
sanias there  was  more  especial  animation ;  not  only  mariners, 
but  slaves,  evidently  from  the  Eastern  markets,  were  seen 
jostling  each  other,  and  heard  talking  quick  and  loud  in 
foreign  tongues.  Kich  carpets  were  unfurled  and  laid  across 
the  deck,  while  trembling  and  hasty  hands  smoothed  into  yet 
more  graceful  folds  the  curtains  that  shaded  the  gay  pavilion 
in  the  centre.  The  Athenians  looked  on,  the  one  with  thought- 
ful composure,  the  other  with  a  bitter  smile,  while  these 
preparations  announced  the  unexpected  and  not  undreaded 
approach  of  the  great  Pausanias. 

"Ho,  noble  Cimon!"  cried  a  young  man,  who,  hurrying 
towards  one  of  the  vessels,  caught  sight  of  the  Athenians  and 
paused.  "  You  are  the  very  person  whom  I  most  desired  to 
see.     Aristides  too!  — we  are  fortunate." 

The  speaker  was  a  young  man  of  slighter  make  and  lower 
stature  than  the  Athenians,  but  well  shaped,  and  with  feat- 
ures the  partial  effeminacy  of  which  was  elevated  by  an 
expression  of  great  vivacity  and  intelligence.  The  steed 
trained  for  Elis  never  bore  in  its  proportions  the  evidence 
of  blood  and  rare  breeding  more  visibly  than  the  dark,  bril- 
liant eye  of  this  young  man;  his  broad,  low,  transparent 
brow,  expanded  nostril,  and  sensitive  lip  revealed  the  pas- 


198  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAX. 

sionate  and  somewhat  arrogant  character  of  the  vivacious 
Greek  of  the  ^gean  Isles. 

"Antagoras,"  replied  Cimon,  laying  his  hand  with  frank 
and  somewhat  blunt  cordiality  on  the  Greek's  shoulder,  "  like 
the  grape  of  your  own  Chios,  you  cannot  fail  to  be  welcome  at 
all  times.     But  why  would  you  seek  us  now?" 

"Because  I  will  no  longer  endure  the  insolence  of  this  rude 
Spartan.  Will  you  believe  it,  Cimon,  —  will  you  believe  it, 
Aristides?  Pausanias  has  actually  dared  to  sentence  to  blows, 
to  stripes,  one  of  my  own  men,  — a  free  Chian;  nay,  a  decad- 
archus.^    I  have  but  this  instant  heard  it.     And  the  offence 

—  Gods,  the  offence  !  —  was  that  he  ventured  to  contest  with 
a  Laconian,  an  underling  in  the  Spartan  army,  which  one  of 
the  two  had  the  fair  right  to  a  wine  cask!  Shall  this  be 
borne,  Cimon?" 

"  Stripes  to  a  Greek !  "  said  Cimon,  and  the  colour  mounted 
to  his  brow.  "Thinks  Pausanias  that  the  Ionian  race  are 
already  his  Helots?" 

"Be  calm,"  said  Aristides;  "Pausanias  approaches.  I  will 
accost  him." 

"But  listen  still,"  exclaimed  Antagoras  eagerly,  plucking 
the  gown  of  the  Athenian  as  the  latter  turned  away.  "  When 
Pausanias  heard  of  the  contest  between  my  soldier  and  his 
Laconian,  what  said  he,  think  you?  *  Prior  claim :  learn 
henceforth  that  where  the  Spartans  are  to  be  found,  the 
Spartans  in  all  matters  have  the  prior  claim.'" 

"We  will  see  to  it,"  returned  Aristides,  calmly;  "but  keep' 
by  my  side." 

And  now  the  music  sounded  loud  and  near,  and  suddenly, 
as  the  procession  approached,  the  character  of  that  music 
altered.  The  Lydian  measures  ceased,  those  who  had  attuned 
them  gave  way  to  musicians  of  loftier  aspect  and  simpler  garb, 

—  in  whom  might  be  recognized,  not,  indeed,  the  genuine 
Spartans,  but  their  free,  if  subordinate,  countrymen  of 
Laconia,  —  and  a  minstrel  who  walked  beside  them  broke 
out  into  a  song,  partially  adapted  from  the  bold  and  lively 
strain  of  Alcseus,  the  first  two  lines  in  each  stanza  ringing 

1  Leader  of  ten  men. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAX.  199 

much  to  that  chime,  the  two  latter  reduced  into  briefer  com- 
pass, as,  with  allowance  for  the  differing  laws  of  national 
rhythm,  we  thus  seek  to  render  the  verse :  — 


SONG. 

Multitudes,  backward !     Way  for  the  Dorian ; 
Way  for  the  Lord  of  rocky  Laconia ! 
Heaven  to  Hercules  opened  ; 
Way  on  the  earth  for  his  son. 

Steel  and  fate,  blunted,  break  on  his  fortitude  ; 
Two  evils  only  never  endureth  he,  — 
Death  by  a  wound  in  retreating, 
Life  with  a  blot  on  his  name. 

Rocky  his  birthplace  :   rocks  are  immutable  ; 
So  are  his  laws,  and  so  sliall  his  glory  be. 
Time  is  the  Victor  of  Nations, 
Sparta  the  Victor  of  Time. 

Watch  o'er  him  heedful  on  the  wide  ocean, 
Brothers  of  Helen,  luminous,  guiding  stars ; 
Dangerous  to  Truth  are  the  fickle, 
Dangerous  to  Sparta  the  seas. 

Multitudes,  backward !    Way  for  the  Conqueror ; 
Way  for  the  footstep  half  the  world  fled  before ; 
Nothing  that  Phoebus  can  shine  on 
Needs  so  much  space  as  Renown. 

Behind  the  musicians  came  ten  Spartans,  selected  from  the 
celebrated  three  hundred  who  claimed  the  right  to  be  stationed 
around  the  king  in  battle.  Tall,  stalwart,  sheathed  in  armour, 
their  shields  slung  at  their  backs,  their  crests  of  plumage  or 
horsehair  waving  over  their  strong  and  stern  features,  these 
hardy  warriors  betrayed  to  the  keen  eye  of  Aristides  their 
sullen  discontent  at  the  part  assigned  to  them  in  the  luxuri- 
ous procession;  their  brows  were  knit,  their  lips  contracted, 
and  each  of  them  who  caught  the  glance  of  the  Athenians, 
turned  his  eyes,  as  half  in  shame,  half  in  anger,  to  the 
ground. 

Coming  now  upon  the  quay  opposite  to  the  galley  of 
Pausanias,   from  which  was  suspended  a  ladder  of  silken 


200  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

cords,  the  procession  halted,  and  opening  on  either  side,  left 
space  in  the  midst  for  the  commander. 

"He  comes,"  whispered  Antagoras  to  Cimon.  "By  Her- 
cules !  I  pray  you  survey  him  well.  Is  it  the  conqueror  of 
Mardonius,  or  the  ghost  of  Mardonius  himself?  " 

The  question  of  the  Chian  seemed  not  extravagant  to  the 
blunt  son  of  Miltiades  as  his  eyes  now  rested  on  Pausanias. 

The  pure  Spartan  race  boasted  perhaps  the  most  superb 
models  of  masculine  beauty  which  the  land  blessed  by  Apollo 
could  afford.  The  laws  that  regulated  marriage  ensured  a 
healthful  and  vigorous  progeny.  Gymnastic  discipline  from 
early  boyhood  gave  ease  to  the  limbs,  iron  to  the  muscle, 
grace  to  the  whole  frame.  Every  Spartan,  being  born  to  com- 
mand, being  noble  by  his  birth,  lord  of  the  Laconians,  master 
of  the  Helots,  superior  in  the  eyes  of  Greece  to  all  other 
Greeks,  was  at  once  a  Eepublican  and  an  Aristocrat.  Schooled 
in  the  arts  that  compose  the  presence,  and  give  calmness  and 
majesty  to  the  bearing,  he  combined  with  the  mere  physical 
advantages  of  activity  and  strength  a  conscious  and  yet  nat- 
ural dignity  of  mien.  Amidst  the  Greeks  assembled  at  the 
Olympian  contests,  others  showed  richer  garments,  more 
sumptuous  chariots,  rarer  steeds ;  but  no  State  could  vie  with 
Sparta  in  the  thews  and  sinews,  the  aspect  and  the  majesty, 
of  the  men.  Nor  were  the  royal  race,  the  descendants  of 
Hercules,  in  external  appearance  unworthy  of  their  country- 
men and  of  their  fabled  origin. 

Sculptor  and  painter  would  have  vainly  tasked  their  imagi- 
native minds  to  invent  a  nobler  ideal  for  the  effigies  of  a  hero 
than  that  which  the  victor  of  Plataea  offered  to  their  inspira- 
tion. As  he  now  paused  amidst  the  group,  he  towered  high 
above  them  all,  even  above  Cimon  himself.  But  in  his  stature 
there  was  nothing  of  the  cumbrous  bulk  and  stolid  heaviness 
which  often  destroy  the  beauty  of  vast  strength.  Severe  and 
early  training,  long  habits  of  rigid  abstemiousness,  the  toils 
of  war,  and,  more  than  all,  perhaps,  the  constant  play  of  a 
restless,  anxious,  aspiring  temper,  had  left,  undisfigured  by 
superfluous  flesh,  the  grand  proportions  of  a  frame,  the  very 
spareness  of  which  had  at  once  the  strength  and  the  beauty  of 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAK  201 

one  of  those  hardy  victors  in  the  wrestling  or  boxing  match, 
whose  agility  and  force  are  modelled  by  discipline  to  the 
purest  forms  of  grace.  Without  that  exact  and  chiselled 
harmony  of  countenance  which  characterized  perhaps  the 
Ionic  rather  than  the  Doric  race,  the  features  of  the  royal 
Spartan  were  noble  and  commanding.  His  complexion  was 
sunburned  almost  to  Oriental  swarthiness,  and  the  raven's 
plume  had  no  darker  gloss  than  that  of  his  long  hair,  which 
(contrary  to  the  Spartan  custom),  flowing  on  either  side,  min- 
gled with  the  closer  curls  of  the  beard.  To  a  scrutinizing 
gaze,  the  more  dignified  and  prepossessing  effect  of  this  exte- 
rior would  perhaps  have  been  counterbalanced  by  an  eye, 
bright  indeed  and  penetrating,  but  restless  and  suspicious, 
by  a  certain  ineffable  mixture  of  arrogant  pride  and  profound 
melancholy  in  the  general  expression  of  the  countenance,  ill 
according  with  that  frank  and  serene  aspect  which  best 
becomes  the  face  of  one  who  would  lead  mankind.  About 
him  altogether  —  the  countenance,  the  form,  the  bearing  — 
there  was  that  which  woke  a  vague,  profound,  and  singular 
interest,  —  an  interest  somewhat  mingled  with  awe,  but  not 
altogether  uncalculated  to  produce  that  affection  which  be- 
longs to  admiration,  save  when  the  sudden  frown  or  disdain- 
ful lip  repelled  the  gentler  impulse  and  tended  rather  to  ex- 
cite fear,  or  to  irritate  pride,  or  to  wound  self-love. 

But  if  the  form  and  features  of  Pausanias  were  eminently 
those  of  the  purest  race  of  Greece,  the  dress  which  he  assumed 
was  no  less  characteristic  of  the  Barbarian.  He  wore,  not  the 
garb  of  the  noble  Persian  race,  which,  close  and  simple,  was 
but  little  less  manly  than  that  of  the  Greeks,  but  the  flowing 
and  gorgeous  garments  of  the  Mede.  His  long  gown,  which 
swept  the  earth,  was  covered  with  flowers  wrought  in  golden 
tissue.  Instead  of  the  Spartan  hat,  the  high  Median  cap  or 
tiara  crowned  his  perfumed  and  lustrous  hair,  while  (what  of 
all  was  most  hateful  to  Grecian  eyes)  he  wore,  though  other- 
wise unarmed,  the  curved  cimeter  and  short  dirk  that  were 
the  national  weapons  of  the  Barbarian.  And  as  it  was  not 
customary,  nor  indeed  legitimate,  for  the  Greeks  to  wear 
weapons  on  peaceful  occasions  and  with  their  ordinary  cos- 


202  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN. 

tume,  so  this  departure  from  the  common  practice  had  not 
only  in  itself  something  offensive  to  the  jealous  eyes  of  his 
comrades,  but  was  rendered  yet  more  obnoxious  by  the  adop- 
tion of  the  very  arms  of  the  East. 

By  the  side  of  Pausanias  was  a  man  whose  dark  beard  was 
already  sown  with  gray.  This  man,  named  Gongylus,  though 
a  Greek,  —  a  native  of  Eretria,  in  Euboea,  —  was  in  high  com- 
mand under  the  great  Persian  king.  At  the  time  of  the  Bar- 
barian invasion  under  Datis  and  Artaphernes  he  had  deserted 
the  cause  of  Greece,  and  had  been  rewarded  with  the  lordship 
of  four  towns  in  ^olis.  Few  among  the  apostate  Greeks  were 
more  deeply  instructed  in  the  language  and  manners  of  the 
Persians;  and  the  intimate  and  sudden  friendship  that  had 
grown  up  between  him  and  the  Spartan  was  regarded  by  the 
Greeks  with  the  most  bitter  and  angry  suspicion.  As  if  to 
show  his  contempt  for  the  natural  jealousy  of  his  countrymen, 
Pausanias,  however,  had  just  given  to  the  Eretrian  the  govern- 
ment of  Byzantium  itself,  and  with  the  command  of  the  cita- 
del had  intrusted  to  him  the  custody  of  the  Persian  prisoners 
captured  in  that  port.  Among  these  were  men  of  the  highest 
rank  and  influence  at  the  court  of  Xerxes ;  and  it  was  more 
than  rumoured  that  of  late  Pausanias  had  visited  and  con- 
ferred with  them,  through  the  interpretation  of  Gongylus,  far 
more  frequently  than  became  the  general  of  the  Greeks. 
Gongylus  had  one  of  those  countenances  which  are  observed 
when  many  of  more  striking  semblance  are  overlooked;  but 
the  features  were  sharp  and  the  visage  lean,  the  eyes  vivid 
and  sparkling  as  those  of  the  lynx,  and  the  dark  pupil  seemed 
yet  more  dark  from  the  extreme  whiteness  of  the  ball,  from 
which  it  lessened  or  dilated  with  the  impulse  of  the  spirit 
which  gave  it  fire.  There  was  in  that  eye  all  the  subtle  craft, 
the  plotting  and  restless  malignity,  which  usually  character- 
ized those  Greek  renegades  who  prostituted  their  native  ener- 
gies to  the  rich  service  of  the  Barbarian;  and  the  lips,  narrow 
and  thin,  wore  that  everlasting  smile  which  to  the  credulous 
disguises  wile,  and  to  the  experienced  betrays  it.  Small, 
spare,  and  prematurely  bent,  the  Eretrian  supported  himself 
by  a  staff,  upon  which  now  leaning,  he  glanced,  quickly  and 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  203 

pryingly,  around,  till  his  eyes  rested  upon  the  Athenians, 
with  the  young  Chian  standing  in  their  rear. 

"  The  Athenian  captains  are  here  to  do  you  homage,  Pau- 
sanias,"  said  he  in  a  whisper,  as  he  touched  with  his  small, 
lean  fingers  the  arm  of  the  Spartan. 

Pausanias  turned  and  muttered  to  himself,  and  at  that 
instant  Aristides  approached. 

"  If  it  please  you,  Pausanias,  Cimon  and  myself,  the  leaders 
of  the  Athenians,  would  crave  a  hearing  upon  certain  matters." 

"Son  of  Lysimachus,  say  on." 

"Your  pardon,  Pausanias,"  returned  the  Athenian,  lowering 
his  voice,  and  with  a  smile :  "  this  is  too  crowded  a  council- 
hall.     May  we  attend  you  on  board  your  galley?" 

"Not  so,"  answered  the  Spartan,  haughtily:  "the  morning 
to  affairs,  the  evening  to  recreation.  We  shall  sail  in  the 
bay  to  see  the  moon  rise ;  and  if  we  indulge  in  consultations, 
it  will  be  over  our  wine-cups.     It  is  a  good  custom. " 

"It  is  a  Persian  one,"  said  Cimon,  bluntly. 

"It  is  permitted  to  us,"  returned  the  Spartan,  coldly,  "to 
borrow  from  those  we  conquer.  But  enough  of  this.  I  have 
no  secrets  with  the  Athenians.  No  matter  if  the  whole  city 
hear  what  you  would  address  to  Pausanias." 

"It  is  to  complain,"  said  Aristides,  with  calm  emphasis, 
but  still  in  an  undertone. 

"Ay,  I  doubt  it  not;  the  Athenians  are  eloquent  in 
grumbling." 

"It  was  not  found  so  at  Plataea,"  returned  Cimon. 

"Son  of  Miltiades,"  said  Pausanias,  loftily,  "your  wit  out- 
runs your  experience.    But  my  time  is  short.    To  the  matter!  " 

"If  you  will  have  it  so,  I  will  speak,"  said  Aristides, 
raising  his  voice.  "  Before  your  own  Spartans,  our  comrades 
in  arms,  I  proclaim  our  causes  of  complaint.  Firstly,  then,  I 
demand  release  and  compensation  to  seven  Athenians,  free- 
born  and  citizens,  whom  your  orders  have  condemned  to  the 
unworthy  punishment  of  standing  all  day  in  the  open  sun 
with  the  weight  of  iron  anchors  on  their  shoulders." 

"  The  mutinous  knaves !  "  exclaimed  the  Spartan.  "  They 
introduced  into  the  camp  the  insolence  of  their  own  agora,  and 


204  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAK 

were  publicly  heard  in  the  streets  inveighing  against  myself 
as  a  favourer  of  the  Persians." 

"It  was  easy  to  confute  the  charge;  it  was  tyrannical  to 
punish  words  in  men  whose  deeds  had  raised  you  to  the  com- 
mand of  Greece." 

"  Their  deeds !  Ye  Gods,  give  me  patience !  By  the  help 
of  Juno  the  Protectress  it  was  this  brain  and  this  arm  that  — 
But  I  will  not  justify  myself  by  imitating  the  Athenian  fash- 
ion of  wordy  boasting.     Pass  on  to  your  next  complaint." 

"  You  have  placed  slaves  —  yes,  Helots  —  around  the 
springs,  to  drive  away  with  scourges  the  soldiers  that  come 
for  water." 

"Not  so,  but  merely  to  prevent  others  from  filling  their 
vases  until  the  Spartans  are  supplied." 

"And  by  what  right  — "  began  Cimon;  but  Aristides 
checked  him  with  a  gesture,  and  proceeded. 

"That  precedence  is  not  warranted  by  custom,  nor  by  the 
terms  of  our  alliance;  and  the  springs,  0  Pausanias,  are 
bounteous  enough  to  provide  for  all.  I  proceed.  You  have 
formally  sentenced  citizens  and  soldiers  to  the  scourge.  Nay, 
this  very  day,  you  have  extended  the  sentence  to  one  in  actual 
command  amongst  the  Chians.     Is  it  not  so,  Antagoras?" 

"It  is,"  said  the  young  Chian,  coming  forward  boldly; 
"and  in  the  name  of  my  countrymen  I  demand  justice." 

"And  I  also,  Uliades  of  Samos,"  said  a  thickset  and  burly 
Greek  who  had  joined  the  group  unobserved,  —  "J  demand 
justice.  What,  by  the  Gods !  Are  we  to  be  all  equals  in  the 
day  of  battle,  —  *  My  good  sir,  march  here ; '  and  *  My  dear 
sir,  just  run  into  that  breach, '  —  and  yet  when  we  have  won 
the  victory  and  should  share  the  glory,  is  one  State,  nay,  one 
man,  to  seize  the  whole,  and  deal  out  iron  anchors  and  tough 
cowhides  to  his  companions?  No,  Spartans,  this  is  not  your 
view  of  the  case ;  you  suffer  in  the  eyes  of  Greece  by  this  mis- 
conduct.    To  Sparta  itself  I  appeal." 

"And  what,  most  patient  sir,"  said  Pausanias,  with  calm 
sarcasm,  though  his  eye  shot  fire,  and  the  upper  lip,  on  which 
no  Spartan  suffered  the  beard  to  grow,  slightly  quivered,  — 
"what  is  your  contribution  to  the  catalogue  of  complaints?" 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  205 

"Jest  not,  Pausanias;  you  will  find  me  in  earnest," 
answered  Uliades,  doggedly,  and  encouraged  by  the  evident 
effect  that  his  eloquence  had  produced  upon  the  Spartans 
themselves.  "I  have  met  with  a  grievous  wrong,  and  all 
Greece  shall  hear  of  it,  if  it  be  not  redressed.  My  own 
brother,  who  at  Mycale  slew  four  Persians  with  his  own 
hand,  headed  a  detachment  for  forage.  He  and  his  men  were 
met  by  a  company  of  mixed  Laconians  and  Helots,  their  for- 
age taken  from  them,  they  themselves  assaulted,  and  my 
brother,  a  man  who  has  moneys  and  maintains  forty  slaves 
of  his  own,  struck  thrice  across  the  face  by  a  rascally  Helot. 
Now,  Pausanias,  your  answer." 

"  You  have  prepared  a  notable  scene  for  the  commander  of 
your  forces,  son  of  Lysimachus,"  said  the  Spartan,  addressing 
himself  to  Aristides.  "Far  be  it  from  me  to  affect  the  Aga- 
memnon, but  your  friends  are  less  modest  in  imitating  the 
venerable  model  of  Thersites.  Enough,"  and  changing  the 
tone  of  his  voice,  the  chief  stamped  his  foot  vehemently  to 
the  ground;  "we  owe  no  account  to  our  inferiors,  we  render 
no  explanation  save  to  Sparta  and  her  ephors." 

"So  be  it,  then,"  said  Aristides,  gravely;  "we  have  our 
answer,  and  you  will  hear  of  our  appeal." 

Pausanias  changed  colour.  "How,"  said  he,  with  a  slight 
hesitation  in  his  tone,  "  mean  you  to  threaten  me  —  me  —  with 
carrying  the  busy  tales  of  your  disaffection  to  the  Spartan 
government?" 

"Time  will  show.  Farewell,  Pausanias.  We  will  detain 
you  no  longer  from  your  pastime." 

"But,"  began  Uliades. 

"Hush,"  said  the  Athenian,  laying  his  hand  on  the  Samian's 
shoulder;  "we  will  confer  anon." 

Pausanias  paused  a  moment,  irresolute  and  in  thought. 
His  eyes  glanced  towards  his  own  countrymen,  who,  true 
to  their  rigid  discipline,  neither  spake  nor  moved,  but  whose 
countenances  were  sullen  and  overcast,  and  at  that  moment 
his  pride  was  shaken,  and  his  heart  misgave  him.  Gongylus 
watched  his  countenance,  and  once  more  laying  his  hand  on 
his  arm,  said  in  a  whisper,  — 


206  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

"He  who  seeks  to  rule  never  goes  back." 

"Tush!  you  know  not  the  Spartans." 

"But  I  know  Human  Nature,  — it  is  the  same  everywhere. 
You  cannot  yield  to  this  insolence;  to-morrow,  of  your  own 
accord,  send  for  these  men  separately  and  pacify  them." 

"  You  are  right.     Now  to  the  vessel !  " 

With  this,  leaning  on  the  shoulder  of  the  Persian,  and  with 
a  slight  wave  of  his  hand  towards  the  Athenians,  —  he  did  not 
deign  even  that  gesture  to  the  island  officers,  —  Pausanias 
advanced  to  the  vessel,  and  slowly  ascending,  disappeared 
within  his  pavilion.  The  Spartans  and  the  musicians  fol- 
lowed; then,  spare  and  swarthy,  some  half  score  of  Egyptian 
sailors ;  last  came  a  small  party  of  Laconians  and  Helots,  who, 
standing  at  some  distance  behind  Pausanias,  had  not  hitherto 
been  observed.  The  former  were  but  slightly  armed;  the 
latter  had  forsaken  their  customary  rude  and  savage  garb, 
and  wore  long  gowns  and  gay  tunics,  somewhat  in  the  fashion 
of  the  Lydians.  With  these  last  there  was  one  of  a  mien  and 
aspect  that  strongly  differed  from  the  lowering  and  ferocious 
cast  of  countenance  common  to  the  Helot  race.  He  was  of 
the  ordinary  stature,  and  his  frame  was  not  characterized  by 
any  appearance  of  unusual  strength;  but  he  trod  the  earth 
with  a  firm  step  and  an  erect  crest,  as  if  the  curse  of  the 
slave  had  not  yet  destroyed  the  inborn  dignity  of  the  human 
being.  There  was  a  certain  delicacy  and  refinement,  rather 
of  thought  than  beauty,  in  his  clear,  sharp,  and  singularly 
intelligent  features.  In  contradistinction  from  the  free-born 
Spartans,  his  hair  was  short,  and  curled  close  above  a  broad 
and  manly  forehead ;  and  his  large  eyes  of  dark  blue  looked 
full  and  bold  upon  the  Athenians  with  something,  if  not  of 
defiance,  at  least  of  pride  in  their  gaze,  as  he  stalked  by  them 
to  the  vessel. 

"A  sturdy  fellow  for  a  Helot,"  muttered  Cimon. 

"And  merits  well  his  freedom,"  said  the  son  of  Lysimachus. 
"  I  remember  him  well.  He  is  Alcman,  the  foster-brother  of 
Pausanias,  whom  he  attended  at  Plataea.  Not  a  Spartan  that 
day  bore  himself  more  bravely." 

"  No  doubt  they  will  put  him  to  death  when  he  goes  back  to 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  207 

Sparta,"  said  Antagoras.  "  When  a  Helot  is  brave,  the  ephors 
clap  the  black  mark  against  his  name,  and  at  the  next 
crypteia  he  suddenly  disappears." 

"Pausanias  may  share  the  same  fate  as  his  Helot,  for  all  I 
care,"  quoth  Uliades.  "Well,  Athenians,  what  say  you  to 
the  answer  we  have  received?" 

"That  Sparta  shall  hear  of  it,"  answered  Aristides. 

"Ah,  but  is  that  all?  Eecollect  the  lonians  have  the 
majority  in  the  fleet;  let  us  not  wait  for  the  slow  ephors. 
Let  us  at  once  throw  off  this  insufferable  yoke,  and  proclaim 
Athens  the  Mistress  of  the  Seas.     What  say  you,  Cimon?  " 

"Let  Aristides  answer." 

"  Yonder  lie  the  Athenian  vessels,"  said  Aristides.  " Those 
who  put  themselves  voluntarily  under  our  protection  we  will 
not  reject.  But  remember  we  assert  no  claim  j  we  yield  but 
to  the  general  wish." 

"Enough;  I  understand  you,"  said  Antagoras. 

"Not  quite,"  returned  the  Athenian,  with  a  smile.  "The 
breach  between  you  and  Pausanias  is  begun,  but  it  is  not  yet 
wide  enough.  You  yourselves  must  do  that  which  will  annul 
all  power  in  the  Spartan ;  and  then  if  ye  come  to  Athens  ye 
will  find  her  as  bold  against  the  Doric  despot  as  against  the 
Barbarian  foe." 

"But  speak  more  plainly.  What  would  you  have  us  do?" 
asked  Uliades,  rubbing  his  chin  in  great  perplexity. 

"Nay,  nay,  I  have  already  said  enough.  Fare  ye  well, 
fellow-countrymen;"  and  leaning  lightly  on  the  shoulder  of 
Cimon,  the  Athenian  passed  on. 

Meanwhile,  the  splendid  galley  of  Pausanias  slowly  put 
forth  into  the  farther  waters  of  the  bay.  The  oars  of  the 
rowers  broke  the  surface  into  countless  phosphoric  sparkles, 
and  the  sound  they  made  as  they  dashed  amidst  the  gentle 
waters  seemed  to  keep  time  with  the  song  and  the  instruments 
on  the  deck.  The  lonians  gazed  in  silence  as  the  stately  ves- 
sel, now  shooting  far  ahead  of  the  rest,  swept  into  the  centre 
of  the  bay;  and  the  moon,  just  rising,  shone  full  upon  the 
glittering  prow,  and  streaked  the  rippling  billows  over  which 
it  had  bounded,  with  a  light,  as  it  were,  of  glory. 


208  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPAKTAK 

Antagoras  sighed. 

"  What  think  you  of?  "  asked  the  rough  Samian. 

"  Peace !  "  replied  Antagoras.  "  In  this  hour,  when  the  fair 
face  of  Artemis  recalls  the  old  legends  of  Endymion,  is  it  not 
permitted  to  man  to  remember  that  before  the  iron  age  came 
the  golden,  — before  war  reigned  love?" 

"Tush!"  said  Uliades.  "Time  enough  to  think  of  love 
when  we  have  satisfied  vengeance.  Let  us  summon  our 
friends,  and  hold  counsel  on  the  Spartan's  insults." 

"Whither  goes  now  the  Spartan?"  murmured  Antagoras, 
abstractedly,  as  he  suffered  his  companion  to  lead  him  away. 
Then,  halting  abruptly,  he  struck  his  clenched  hand  on  his 
breast. 

"0  Aphrodite!"  he  cried;  "this  night,  this  night  I  will 
seek  thy  temple.     Hear  my  vows,  soothe  my  jealousy! " 

"Ah,"  grunted  Uliades,  "if,  as  men  say,  thou  lovest  a  fair 
Byzantine,  Aphrodite  will  have  sharp  work  to  cure  thee  of 
jealousy,  unless  she  first  makes  thee  blind." 

Antagoras  smiled  faintly,  and  the  two  lonians  moved  on 
slowly  and  in  silence.  In  a  few  minutes  more  the  quays  were 
deserted,  and  nothing  but  the  blended  murmur,  spreading 
wide  and  indistinct  throughout  the  camp,  and  a  noisier  but 
occasional  burst  of  merriment  from  those  resorts  of  obscener 
pleasure  which  were  profusely  scattered  along  the  haven, 
mingled  with  the  whispers  of  "the  far  resounding  sea." 


CHAPTEE  II. 

On  a  couch  beneath  his  voluptuous  awning  reclined  Pau- 
sanias.  The  curtains,  drawn  aside,  gave  to  view  the  moonlit 
ocean  and  the  dim  shadows  oE  the  shore,  with  the  dark  woods 
beyond,  relieved  by  the  distant  lights  of  the  city.  On  one 
side  of  the  Spartan  was  a  small  table  that  supported  goblets 
and  vases  of  that  exquisite  wine  which  Maronea  proffered  to 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  209 

the  thirst  of  the  Byzantine,  and  those  cooling  and  delicious 
fruits  which  the  orchards  around  the  city  supplied  as  amply 
as  the  fabled  gardens  of  the  Hesperides,  were  heaped  on  the 
other  side.  Towards  the  foot  of  the  couch,  propped  upon 
cushions  piled  on  the  floor,  sat  Gongylus,  conversing  in  a 
low,  earnest  voice,  and  fixing  his  eyes  steadfastly  on  the 
Spartan.  The  habits  of  the  Eretrian's  life,  which  had 
brought  him  in  constant  contact  with  the  Persians,  had  in- 
fected his  very  language  with  the  luxuriant  extravagance  of 
the  East;  and  the  thoughts  he  uttered  made  his  language 
but  too  musical  to  the  ears  of  the  listening  Spartan. 

"  And  fair  as  these  climes  may  seem  to  you,  and  rich  as  are 
the  gardens  and  granaries  of  Byzantium,  yet  to  me  who  have 
stood  on  the  terraces  of  Babylon,  and  looked  upon  groves 
covering  with  blossom  and  fruit  the  very  fortresses  and  walls 
of  that  queen  of  nations,  —  to  me,  who  have  roved  amidst  the 
vast  delights  of  Susa,  through  palaces  whose  very  porticos 
might  enclose  the  limits  of  a  Grecian  city;  who  have  stood, 
awed  and  dazzled,  in  the  courts  of  that  wonder  of  the  world, 
that  crown  of  the  East,  the  marble  magnificence  of  Persepolis, 
—  to  me,  Pausanias,  who  have  been  thus  admitted  into  the 
very  heart  of  Persian  glories,  this  city  of  Byzantium  appears 
but  a  village  of  artisans  and  fishermen;  the  very  foliage  of 
its  forests  pale  and  sickly,  the  very  moonlight  upon  these 
waters  cold  and  smileless.  Ah,  if  thou  couldst  but  see! 
But  pardon  me,  I  weary  thee." 

"Not  so,"  said  the  Spartan,  who,  raised  upon  his  elbow, 
listened  to  the  words  of  Gongylus  with  deep  attention. 
"Proceed." 

"Ah,  if  thou  couldst  but  see  the  fair  regions  which  the 
Great  King  has  apportioned  to  thy  countryman  Demaratus. 
And  if  a  domain  that  would  satiate  the  ambition  of  the  most 
craving  of  your  earlier  tyrants  fall  to  Demaratus,  what  would 
be  the  splendid  satrapy  in  which  the  conqueror  of  Platsea 
might  plant  his  throne !  " 

"  In  truth,  my  renown  and  my  power  are  greater  than  those 
ever  possessed  by  Demaratus,"  said  the  Spartan,  musingly. 

"Yet,"  pursued  Gongylus,  "it  is  not  so  much  the  mere 

14 


210  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

extent  of  tlie  territories  which  the  grateful  Xerxes  could 
proffer  to  the  brave  Pausanias,  it  is  not  their  extent  so  much 
that  might  tempt  desire,  neither  is  it  their  stately  forests,  nor 
the  fertile  meadows,  nor  the  ocean-like  rivers,  which  the  gods 
of  the  East  have  given  to  the  race  of  Cyrus.  There,  free  from 
the  strange  constraints  which  our  austere  customs  and  solemn 
deities  impose  upon  the  Greeks,  the  beneficent  Ormuzd  scat- 
ters ever-varying  delights  upon  the  paths  of  men.  All  that 
art  can  invent,  all  that  the  marts  of  the  universe  can  afford 
of  the  rare  and  voluptuous,  are  lavished  upon  abodes  the 
splendour  of  which  even  our  idle  dreams  of  Olympus  never 
shadowed  forth.  There,  instead  of  the  harsh  and  imperious 
helpmate  to  whom  the  joyless  Spartan  confines  his  reluctant 
love,  all  the  beauties  of  every  clime  contend  for  the  smile  of 
their  lord.  And  wherever  are  turned  the  change-loving  eyes 
of  Passion,  the  Aphrodite  of  our  poets,  such  as  the  Cytherean 
and  the  Cyprian  fable  her,  seems  to  recline  on  the  lotus-leaf, 
or  to  rise  from  the  unruffled  ocean  of  delight.  Instead  of  the 
gloomy  brows  and  the  harsh  tones  of  rivals  envious  of  your 
fame,  hosts  of  friends  aspiring  only  to  be  followers  will  catch 
gladness  from  your  smile,  or  sorrow  from  your  frown.  There, 
no  jarring  contests  with  little  men,  who  deem  themselves  the 
equals  of  the  great,  no  jealous  ephor  is  found,  to  load  the 
commonest  acts  of  life  with  fetters  of  iron  custom.  Talk  of 
liberty!  liberty  in  Sparta  is  but  one  eternal  servitude;  you 
cannot  move,  or  eat,  or  sleep,  save  as  the  law  directs.  Your 
very  children  are  wrested  from  you  just  in  the  age  when  their 
voices  sound  most  sweet.  Ye  are  not  men,  ye  are  machines. 
Call  you  this  liberty,  Pausanias?  I,  a  Greek,  have  known 
both  Grecian  liberty  and  Persian  royalty.  Better  be  chief- 
tain to  a  king  than  servant  to  a  mob.  But  in  Eretria,  at 
least,  pleasure  was  not  denied;  in  Sparta  the  very  Graces 
preside  over  discipline  and  war  only." 

"Your  fire  falls  upon  flax,"  said  Pausanias,  rising,  and 
with  passionate  emotion.  "And  if  you,  the  Greek  of  a 
happier  state,  you  who  know  but  by  report  the  unnatural 
bondage  to  which  the  Spartans  are  subjected,  can  weary  of 
the  very  name  of  Greek,  what  must  be  the  feelings  of  one 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  211 

who  from  the  cradle  upward  has  been  starved  out  of  the 
genial  desires  of  life?  Even  in  earliest  youth,  while  yet  all 
other  lands  and  customs  were  unknown,  when  it  was  duly 
poured  into  my  ears  that  to  be  born  a  Spartan  constituted  the 
glory  and  the  bliss  of  earth,  my  soul  sickened  at  the  lesson, 
and  my  reason  revolted  against  the  lie.  Often  when  my 
whole  body  was  lacerated  with  stripes,  disdaining  to  groan, 
I  yet  yearned  to  strike,  and  I  cursed  my  savage  tutors  who 
denied  pleasure  even  to  childhood,  with  all  the  madness  of 
impotent  revenge.  My  mother  herself  (sweet  name  else- 
where) had  no  kindness  in  her  face.  She  was  the  pride  of 
the  matronage  of  Sparta,  because  of  all  our  women  Alithea 
was  the  most  unsexed.  When  I  went  forth  to  my  first  cryp- 
teia,  to  watch,  amidst  the  wintry  dreariness  of  the  mountains, 
upon  the  movements  of  the  wretched  Helots,  to  spy  upon  their 
sufferings,  to  take  account  of  their  groans,  and  if  one  more 
manly  than  the  rest  dared  to  mingle  curses  with  his  groans, 
to  mark  him  for  slaughter,  as  a  wolf  that  threatened  danger 
to  the  fold;  to  lurk,  an  assassin,  about  his  home,  to  dog  his 
walks,  to  fall  on  him  unawares,  to  strike  him  from  behind,  to 
filch  away  his  life,  to  bury  him  in  the  ravines,  so  that  murder 
might  leave  no  trace,  —  when  upon  this  initiating  campaign, 
the  virgin  trials  of  our  youth,  I  first  set  forth,  my  mother 
drew  near,  and  girding  me  herself  with  my  grandsire's 
sword,  *  Go  forth,'  she  said,  'as  the  young  hound  to  the 
chase,  to  wind,  to  double,  to  leap  on  the  prey,  and  to  taste 
of  blood.  See,  the  sword  is  bright:  show  me  the  stains  at 
thy  return.'  " 

"Is  it  then  true,  as  the  Greeks  generally  declare,"  inter- 
rupted Gongylus,  "  that  in  these  campaigns,  or  crypteias,  the 
sole  aim  and  object  is  the  massacre  of  Helots?" 

"Not  so,"  replied  Pausanias;  "savage  though  the  custom, 
it  smells  not  so  foully  of  the  shambles.  The  avowed  object 
is  to  harden  the  nerves  of  our  youth.  Barefooted,  unattended, 
through  cold  and  storm,  performing  ourselves  the  most  menial 
offices  necessary  to  life,  we  wander  for  a  certain  season  daily 
and  nightly  through  the  rugged  territories  of  Laconia.^    We 

1  Plato,  Leges,  i.  p.  633.    See  also  Miiller,  Dorians,  ii.  41. 


212  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN. 

go  as  boys,  — we  come  back  as  men.^  Tbe  avowed  object,  I 
say,  is  inurement  to  hardship;  but  with  this  is  connected  the 
secret  end  of  keeping  watch  on  those  half -tamed  and  bull-like 
herds  of  men  whom  we  call  the  Helots.  If  any  be  dangerous, 
we  mark  him  for  the  knife.  One  of  them  had  thrice  been  a 
ringleader  in  revolt.  He  was  wary  as  well  as  fierce.  He  had 
escaped  in  three  succeeding  crypteias.  To  me,  as  one  of  the 
Heraclidse,  was  assigned  the  honour  of  tracking  and  destroy- 
ing him.  For  three  days  and  three  nights  I  dogged  his  foot- 
steps (for  he  had  caught  the  scent  of  the  pursuers  and  fled) 
through  forest  and  defile,  through  valley  and  crag,  stealthily 
and  relentlessly.  I  followed  him  close.  At  last,  one  even- 
ing, having  lost  sight  of  all  my  comrades,  I  came  suddenly 
upon  him  as  I  emerged  from  a  wood.  It  was  a  broad  patch 
of  waste  land,  through  which  rushed  a  stream  swollen  by  the 
rains,  and  plunging  with  a  sullen  roar  down  a  deep  and 
gloomy  precipice,  that  to  the  right  and  left  bounded  the 
waste,  the  stream  in  front,  the  wood  in  the  rear.  He  was 
reclining  by  the  stream  at  which,  with  the  hollow  of  his  hand, 
he  quenched  his  thirst.  I  paused  to  gaze  upon  him,  and  as 
I  did  so  he  turned  and  saw  me.  He  rose  and  fixed  his  eyes 
on  mine,  and  we  examined  each  other  in  silence.  The  Helots 
are  rarely  of  tall  stature,  but  this  was  a  giant.  His  dress, 
that  of  his  tribe,  —  of  rude  sheepskins,  and  his  cap  made  from 
the  hide  of  a  dog,  —  increased  the  savage  rudeness  of  his  ap- 
pearance. I  rejoiced  that  he  saw  me,  and  that,  as  we  were 
alone,  I  might  fight  him  fairly.  It  would  have  been  terrible 
to  slay  the  wretch  if  I  had  caught  him  in  his  sleep." 

"Proceed,"  said  Gongylus,  with  interest;  for  so  little  was 
known  of  Sparta  by  the  rest  of  the  Greeks,  especially  outside 
the  Peloponnesus,  that  these  details  gratified  his  natural  spirit 
of  gossiping  inquisitiveness. 

"  *  Stand ! '  said  I,  and  he  moved  not.  I  approached  him 
slowly.  *  Thou  art  a  Spartan, '  said  he,  in  a  deep  and  harsh 
voice,  *  and  thou  comest  for  my  blood.  Go,  boy,  go ;  thou  art 
not  mellowed  to  thy  prime,  and  thy  comrades  are  far  away. 

1  Pueros  pnberes;  neque  prius  in  nrbem  redire  quam  viri  facti  es- 
sent.  —  JuSTiNius,  iii.  3. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  213 

The  shears  of  the  Fatal  deities  hover  over  the  thread,  not  of 
my  life,  but  of  thine.'  I  was  struck,  Gongylus,  by  this 
address,  for  it  was  neither  desperate  nor  dastardly,  as  I  had 
anticipated;  nevertheless,  it  beseemed  not  a  Spartan  to  fly 
from  a  Helot,  and  I  drew  the  sword  which  my  mother  had 
girded  on.  The  Helot  watched  my  movements,  and  seized  a 
rude  and  knotted  club  that  lay  on  the  ground  beside  him. 

"  *  Wretch, '  said  I,  *  darest  thou  attack,  face  to  face,  a 
descendant  of  the  Heraclidse?  In  me  behold  Pausanias, 
the  son  of  Cleombrotus. ' 

"  ^  Be  it  so ;  in  the  city  one  is  the  god-born,  the  other  the 
man-enslaved.     On  the  mountains  we  are  equals. ' 

"  *  Knowest  thou  not, '  said  I,  *  that  if  the  Gods  condemned 
me  to  die  by  thy  hand,  not  only  thou,  but  thy  whole  house, 
thy  wife  and  thy  children,  would  be  sacrificed  to  my  ghost? ' 

"  *  The  earth  can  hide  the  Spartan's  bones  as  secretly  as  the 
Helot's, '  answered  my  strange  foe.  *  Begone,  young  and 
unfleshed  in  slaughter  as  you  are;  why  make  war  upon  me? 
My  death  can  give  you  neither  gold  nor  glory.  I  have  never 
harmed  thee  or  thine.  How  much  of  the  air  and  sun  does 
this  form  take  from  the  descendant  of  the  Heraclidae? ' 

"  *  Thrice  hast  thou  raised  revolt  among  the  Helots ;  thrice 
at  thy  voice  have  they  risen  in  bloody,  though  fruitless,  strife 
against  their  masters. ' 

"  *  Not  at  my  voice,  but  at  that  of  the  two  deities  who  are 
the  war-gods  of  slaves,  —  Persecution  and  Despair. '  ^ 

"Impatient  of  this  parley,  I  tarried  no  longer.  I  sprang 
upon  the  Helot.  He  evaded  my  sword,  and  I  soon  found  that 
all  my  agility  and  skill  were  requisite  to  save  me  from  the 
massive  weapon,  one  blow  of  which  would  have  sufficed  to 
crush  me.  But  the  Helot  seemed  to  stand  on  the  defensive, 
and  continued  to  back  towards  the  wood  from  which  I  had 
emerged.  Fearful  lest  he  should  escape  me,  I  pressed  hard 
on  his  footsteps.     My  blood  grew  warm;   my  fury  got  the 

1  When  Themistocles  sought  to  extort  tribute  from  the  Andrians,  he  said, 
"  I  bring  with  me  two  powerful  gods, —  Persuasion  and  Force."  "  And  on 
our  side,"  was  the  answer,  "  are  two  deities  not  less  powerful, —  Poverty  and 
Despair ! " 


214  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

better  of  my  prudence.  My  foot  stumbled;  I  recovered  in 
an  instant,  and,  looking  up,  beheld  the  terrible  club  sus- 
pended over  my  head:  it  might  have  fallen,  but  the  stroke 
of  death  was  withheld.  I  misinterpreted  the  merciful  delay; 
the  lifted  arm  left  the  body  of  my  enemy  exposed.  I  struck 
him  on  the  side;  the  thick  hide  blunted  the  stroke,  but  it 
drew  blood.  Afraid  to  draw  back  within  the  reach  of  his 
weapon,  I  threw  myself  on  him,  and  grappled  to  his  throat. 
We  rolled  on  the  earth  together;  it  was  but  a  moment^s 
struggle.  Strong  as  I  was  even  in  boyhood,  the  Helot  would 
have  been  a  match  for  Alcides.  A  shade  passed  over  my 
eyes,  my  breath  heaved  short.  The  slave  was  kneeling  on 
my  breast,  and,  dropping  the  club,  he  drew  a  short  knife  from 
his  girdle.  I  gazed  upon  him  grim  and  mute.  I  was  con- 
quered, and  I  cared  not  for  the  rest. 

"The  blood  from  his  side,  as  he  bent  over  me,  trickled 
down  upon  my  face. 

"*And  this  blood,'  said  the  Helot,  *you  shed  in  the  very 
moment  when  I  spared  your  life:  such  is  the  honour  of  a 
Spartan.     Do  you  not  deserve  to  die? ' 

"  *  Yes,  for  I  am  subdued,  and  by  a  slave.     Strike ! ' 

"  *  There, '  said  the  Helot,  in  a  melancholy  and  altered  tone, 
*  there  speaks  the  soul  of  the  Dorian,  —  the  fatal  spirit  to 
which  the  Gods  have  rendered  up  our  wretched  race.  We  are 
doomed,  doomed,  and  one  victim  will  not  expiate  our  curse. 
Rise,  return  to  Sparta,  and  forget  that  thou  art  innocent  of 
murder.  * 

"  He  lifted  his  knee  from  my  breast,  and  I  rose,  ashamed 
and  humbled. 

"At  that  instant  I  heard  the  crashing  of  the  leaves  in  the 
wood,  for  the  air  was  exceedingly  still.  I  knew  that  my 
companions  were  at  hand.  *  Fly, '  I  cried,  *  fly !  If  they 
come  I  cannot  save  thee,  royal  though  I  be.     Fly ! ' 

"*And  wouldst  thou  save  me? '  said  the  Helot,  in  surprise. 

"^Ay,  with  my  own  life.  Canst  thou  doubt  it?  Lose  not 
a  moment.  Fly !  Yet  stay ; '  and  I  tore  off  a  part  of  the 
woollen  vest  that  I  wore.  *  Place  this  at  thy  side ;  stanch  the 
blood,  that  it  may  not  track  thee.     Now  begone ! ' 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  215 

"  The  Helot  looked  hard  at  me,  and  I  thought  there  were 
tears  in  his  rude  eyes;  then,  catching  up  the  club  with  as 
much  ease  as  I  this  staff,  he  sped  with  inconceivable  rapidity, 
despite  his  wound,  towards  the  precipice  on  the  right,  and 
disappeared  amidst  the  thick  brambles  that  clothed  the  gorge. 
In  a  few  moments  three  of  my  companions  approached.  They 
found  me  exhausted,  and  panting  rather  with  excitement  than 
fatigue.  Their  quick  eyes  detected  the  blood  upon  the  ground. 
I  gave  them  no  time  to  pause  and  examine.  '  He  has  escaped 
me,  he  has  fled, '  I  cried ;  *  follow ; '  and  I  led  them  to  the 
opposite  part  of  the  precipice  from  that  which  the  Helot  had 
taken.  Heading  the  search,  I  pretended  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  goatskin  ever  and  anon  through  the  trees,  and  I  stayed 
not  the  pursuit  till  night  grew  dark,  and  I  judged  the  victim 
was  far  away." 

"  And  he  escaped?  " 

"  He  did.  The  crypteia  ended.  Three  other  Helots  were 
slain,  but  not  by  me.  We  returned  to  Sparta,  and  my  mother 
was  comforted  for  my  misfortune  in  not  having  slain  my  foe 
by  seeing  the  stains  on  my  grandsire's  sword.  I  will  tell  thee 
a  secret,  Gongylus,"  —  and  here  Pausanias  lowered  his  voice, 
and  looked  anxiously  towards  him,  —  "  since  that  day  I  have 
not  hated  the  Helot  race.  Nay,  it  may  be  that  I  have  loved 
them  better  than  the  Dorian. " 

"I  do  not  wonder  at  it;  but  has  not  your  wounded  giant  yet 
met  with  his  death?" 

"No;  I  never  related  what  had  passed  between  us  to  any 
one  save  my  father.  He  was  gentle  for  a  Spartan,  and  he 
rested  not  till  Gylippus  —  so  was  the  Helot  named  —  obtained 
exemption  from  the  black  list.  He  dared  not,  however, 
attribute  his  intercession  to  the  true  cause.  It  happened, 
fortunately,  that  Gylippus  was  related  to  my  own  foster- 
brother,  Alcman,  —  brother  to  my  nurse ;  and  Alcman  is  cele- 
brated in  Sparta,  not  only  for  courage  in  war,  but  for  arts  in 
peace.  He  is  a  poet,  and  his  strains  please  the  Dorian  ear, 
for  they  are  stern  and  simple,  and  they  breathe  of  war. 
Alcman's  merits  won  forgiveness  for  the  offences  of  Gylippus. 
May  the  Gods  be  kind  to  his  race ! " 


216  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN. 

"Your  Alcman  seems  one  of  no  common  intelligence,  and 
your  gentleness  to  him  does  not  astonish  me,  though  it  seems 
often  to  raise  a  frown  on  the  brows  of  your  Spartans." 

"We  have  lain  on  the  same  bosom,"  said  Pausanias,  touch- 
ingly,  "  and  his  mother  was  kinder  to  me  than  my  own.  You 
must  know  that  to  those  Helots  who  have  been  our  foster- 
brothers,  and  whom  we  distinguish  by  the  name  of  Mothons, 
our  stern  law  relaxes.  They  have  no  rights  of  citizenship,  it 
is  true,  but  they  cease  to  be  slaves,^  —  nay,  sometimes  they 
attain,  not  only  to  entire  emancipation,  but  to  distinction. 
Alcman  has  bound  his  fate  to  mine.  But  to  return,  Gongylus. 
I  tell  thee  that  it  is  not  thy  descriptions  of  pomp  and  domi- 
nion that  allure  me,  though  I  am  not  above  the  love  of  power, 
neither  is  it  thy  glowing  promises,  though  blood  too  wild  for 
a  Dorian  runs  riot  in  my  veins ;  but  it  is  my  deep  loathing, 
my  inexpressible  disgust,  for  Sparta  and  her  laws,  my  horror 
at  the  thought  of  wearing  away  life  in  those  sullen  customs, 
amid  that  joyless  round  of  tyrannic  duties,  —  in  my  rapture 
at  the  hope  of  escape,  of  life  in  a  land  which  the  eye  of  the 
ephor  never  pierces :  this  it  is,  and  this  alone,  0  Persian,  that 
makes  me  (the  words  must  out)  a  traitor  to  my  country,  one 
who  dreams  of  becoming  a  dependant  on  her  foe." 

"Nay,"  said  Gongylus,  eagerly;  for  here  Pausanias  moved 
uneasily,  and  the  colour  mounted  to  his  brow.  "  Nay,  speak 
not  of  dependence.  Consider  the  proposals  that  you  can  alone 
condescend  to  offer  to  the  Great  King.  Can  the  conqueror  of 
Platsea,  with  millions  for  his  subjects,  hold  himself  depen- 
dent, even  on  the  sovereign  of  the  East?  How,  hereafter, 
will  the  memories  of  our  sterile  Greece  and  your  rocky  Sparta 
fade  from  your  mind,  or  be  remembered  only  as  a  state  of 
thraldom  and  bondage  which  your  riper  manhood  has 
outgrown ! " 

"I  will  try  to  think  so,  at  least,"  said  Pausanias,  gloomily. 
"And,  come  what  may,  I  am  not  one  to  recede.  I  have  thrown 
my  shield  into  a  fearful  peril ;  but  I  will  win  it  back,  or  per- 
ish.    Enough  of  this,   Gongylus.     Night  advances.     I  will 

1  The  appellation  of  Mothons  was  not  confined  to  the  Helots  who  claimed 
the  connection  of  foster-brothers,  but  was  ^iven  also  to  household  slaves. 


\ 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  217 

attend  the  appointment  you  have  made.  Take  the  boat,  and 
within  an  hour  I  will  meet  you  with  the  prisoners  at  the  spot 
agreed  on,  near  the  Temple  of  Aphrodite.  All  things  are 
prepared?  " 

"All,"  said  Gongylus,  rising,  with  a  gleam  of  malignant 
joy  on  his  dark  face.  "  I  leave  thee,  kingly  slave  of  the  rocky 
Sparta,  to  prepare  the  way  for  thee  as  satrap  of  half  the  East." 

So  saying,  he  quitted  the  awning,  and  motioned  three 
Egyptian  sailors  who  lay  on  the  deck  without.  A  boat  was 
lowered,  and  the  sound  of  its  oars  woke  Pausanias  from  the 
revery  into  which  the  parting  words  of  the  Eretrian  had 
plunged  his  mind. 


CHAPTER  III. 

With  a  slow  and  thoughtful  step,  Pausanias  passed  on  to 
the  outer  deck.  The  moon  was  up,  and  the  vessel  scarcely 
seemed  to  stir,  so  gently  did  it  glide  along  the  sparkling 
waters.  They  were  still  within  the  bay,  and  the  shores  rose, 
white  and  distinct,  to  his  view.  A  group  of  Spartans,  reclin- 
ing by  the  side  of  the  ship,  were  gazing  listlessly  on  the 
waters.     The  regent  paused  beside  them. 

"Ye  weary  of  the  ocean,  methinks,"  said  he.  "We  Dorians 
have  not  the  merchant  tastes  of  the  lonians."  ^ 

"Son  of  Cleombrotus,"  said  one  of  the  group,  a  Spartan 
whose  rank  and  services  entitled  him  to  more  than  ordinary 
familiarity  with  the  chief,  "  it  is  not  the  ocean  itself  that  we 
should  dread,  it  is  the  contagion  of  those  who,  living  on  the 
element,  seem  to  share  in  its  ebb  and  flow.  The  lonians  are 
never  three  hours  in  the  same  mind." 

"Eor  that  reason,"  said  Pausanias,  fixing  his  eyes  stead- 
fastly on  the  Spartan,  "for  that  reason  I  have  judged  it 
advisable  to  adopt  a  rough  manner  with  these  innovators,  — 
to  draw  with  a  broad  chalk  the  line  between  them  and  the 

1  No  Spartan  served  as  a  sailor,  or  indeed  condescended  to  any  trade  or 
calling  but  that  of  war. 


218  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

Spartans,  and  to  teach  those  who  never  knew  discipline  the 
stern  duties  of  obedience.     Think  you  I  have  done  wisely?  " 

The  Spartan,  who  had  risen  when  Pausanias  addressed  him, 
drew  his  chief  a  little  aside  from  the  rest. 

"Pausanias,"  said  he,  "the  hard  Naxian  stone  best  tames 
and  tempers  the  fine  steel ;  ^  but  the  steel  may  break  if  the 
workman  be  not  skilful.  These  Athenians  are  grown  insolent 
since  Marathon,  and  their  soft  kindred  of  Asia  have  relighted 
the  fires  they  took  of  old  from  the  Cecropian  Prytaneum. 
Their  sail  is  more  numerous  than  ours ;  on  the  sea  they  find 
the  courage  they  lose  on  land.  Better  be  gentle  with  those 
wayward  allies,  for  the  Spartan  greyhound  shows  not  his 
teeth  but  to  bite." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right.  I  will  consider  these  things,  and 
appease  the  mutineers.  But  it  goes  hard  with  my  pride, 
Thrasyllus,  to  make  equals  of  this  soft-tongued  race.  Why, 
these  lonians,  do  they  not  enjoy  themselves  in  perpetual  holi- 
days, spend  days  at  the  banquet,  ransack  earth  and  sea  for 
dainties  and  for  perfumes?  —  and  shall  they  be  the  equals  of 
us  men  who,  from  the  age  of  seven  to  that  of  sixty,  are  wisely 
taught  to  make  life  so  barren  and  toilsome  that  we  may  well 
have  no  fear  of  death?  I  hate  these  sleek  and  merry  feast- 
givers;  they  are  a  perpetual  insult  to  our  solemn  existence." 

There  was  a  strange  mixture  of  irony  and  passion  in  the 
Spartan ^s  voice  as  he  thus  spoke,  and  Thrasylhis  looked  at 
him  in  grave  surprise. 

"There  is  nothing  to  envy  in  the  woman-like  debaucheries 
of  the  Ionian,"  said  he,  after  a  pause. 

"Envy!  no;  we  only  hate  them,  Thrasyllus.  Yon  Eretrian 
tells  me  rare  things  of  the  East.  Time  may  come  when  we 
shall  sup  on  the  black  broth  in  Susa." 

"The  Gods  forbid!  Sparta  never  invades.  Life  with  us 
is  too  precious,  for  we  are  few.  Pausanias,  I  would  we  were 
well  quit  of  Byzantium.  I  do  not  suspect  you,  not  I;  but 
there  are  those  who  look  with  vexed  eyes  on  those  garments, 
and  I,  who  love  you,  fear  the  sharp  jealousies  of  the  ephors, 
to  whose  ears  the  birds  carry  all  tidings." 
1  Pindar,  Isth.  v.  (vi.)  73. 


PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN.  219 

"My  poor  Thrasyllus,"  said  Pausanias,  laughing  scornfully, 
"  think  you  that  I  wear  these  robes,  or  mimic  the  Median  man- 
ners, for  love  of  the  Mede?  No,  no!  But  there  are  arts 
which  save  countries  as  well  as  those  of  war.  This  Gongylus 
is  in  the  confidence  of  Xerxes.  I  desire  to  establish  a  peace 
for  Greece  upon  everlasting  foundations.  Eeflect :  Persia  hath 
millions  yet  left.  Another  invasion  may  find  a  different  for- 
tune; aad  even  at  the  best,  Sparta  gains  nothing  by  these 
wars.  Athens  triumphs,  not  Lacedaemon.  I  would,  I  say, 
establish  a  peace  with  Persia;  I  would  that  Sparta,  not  Athens, 
should  have  that  honour.  Hence  these  flatteries  to  the  Per- 
sian, —  trivial  to  us  who  render  them,  sweet  and  powerful  to 
those  who  receive.  Kemember  these  words  hereafter,  if  the 
ephors  make  question  of  my  discretion.  And  now,  Thrasyl- 
lus, return  to  our  friends,  and  satisfy  them  as  to  the  conduct 
of  Pausanias." 

Quitting  Thrasyllus,  the  regent  now  joined  a  young  Spar- 
tan who  stood  alone  by  the  prow  in  a  musing  attitude. 

"Lysander,  my  friend,  my  only  friend,  my  best-loved 
Lysander, "  said  Pausanias,  placing  his  hand  on  the  Spartan's 
shoulder,  "and  why  so  sad?" 

"How  many  leagues  are  we  from  Sparta?"  answered 
Lysander,  mournfully. 

"And  canst  thou  sigh  for  the  black  broth,  my  friend? 
Come,  how  often  hast  thou  said,  *  Where  Pausanias  is,  there 
is  Sparta!'" 

"Forgive  me,  I  am  ungrateful,"  said  Lysander,  with 
warmth.  "My  benefactor,  my  guardian,  my  hero,  forgive 
me  if  I  have  added  to  your  own  countless  causes  of  anxiety. 
Wherever  you  are,  there  is  life,  and  there  glory.  When  I 
was  just  born,  sickly  and  feeble,  I  was  exposed  on  Taygetus. 
You,  then  a  boy,  heard  my  faint  cry,  and  took  on  me  that 
compassion  which  my  parents  had  forsworn.  You  bore  me 
to  your  father's  roof,  you  interceded  for  my  life.  You  pre- 
vailed even  on  your  stern  mother.  I  was  saved;  and  the 
Gods  smiled  upon  the  infant  whom  the  son  of  the  humane 
Hercules  protected.  I  grew  up  strong  and  hardy,  and  belied 
the  signs  of  my  birth.     My  parents  then  owned  me;  but  still 


220  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAK 

you  were  my  fosterer,  my  saviour,  my  more  than  father.  As 
I  grew  up,  placed  under  your  care,  I  imbibed  my  first  lessons 
of  war.  By  your  side  I  fought,  and  from  your  example  I  won 
glory.  Yes,  Pausanias,  even  here,  amidst  luxuries  which 
revolt  me  more  than  the  Parthian  bow  and  the  Persian  sword, 
even  amidst  the  faces  of  the  stranger,  I  still  feel  thy  presence 
my  home,  thyself  my  Sparta.'' 

The  proud  Pausanias  was  touched,  and  his  voice  trembled 
as  he  replied :  "  Brother  in  arms  and  in  love,  whatever  service 
fate  may  have  allowed  me  to  render  unto  thee,  thy  high  nature 
and  thy  cheering  affection  have  more  than  paid  me  back. 
Often  in  our  lonely  rambles  amidst  the  dark  oaks  of  the 
sacred  Scotitas,^  or  by  the  wayward  waters  of  Tiasa,^  when 
I  have  poured  into  thy  faithful  breast  my  impatient  loathing, 
my  ineffable  distaste  for  the  iron  life,  the  countless  and  weari- 
some tyrannies  of  custom  which  surround  the  Spartans,  often 
have  I  found  a  consoling  refuge  in  thy  divine  contentment, 
thy  cheerful  wisdom.  Thou  lovest  Sparta:  why  is  she  not 
worthier  of  thy  love?  Allowed  only  to  be  half  men,  in  war 
we  are  demigods,  in  peace,  slaves.  Thou  wouldst  interrupt 
me.  Be  silent.  I  am  in  a  wilful  mood;  thou  canst  not  com- 
prehend me,  and  I  often  marvel  at  thee.  Still,  we  are 
friends,  — such  friends  as  the  Dorian  discipline,  which  makes 
friendship  necessary  in  order  to  endure  life,  alone  can  form. 
Come,  take  up  thy  staff  and  mantle.  Thou  shalt  be  my  com- 
panion ashore.  I  seek  one  whom  alone  in  the  world  I  love 
better  than  thee.  To-morrow  to  stern  duties  once  more. 
Alcman  shall  row  us  across  the  bay,  and  as  we  glide  along, 
if  thou  wilt  praise  Sparta,  I  will  listen  to  thee  as  the  lonians 
listen  to  their  tale-tellers.  Ho!  Alcman,  stop  the  rowers 
and  lower  the  boat." 

The  orders  were  obeyed,  and  a  second  boat  soon  darted 
towards  the  same  part  of  the  bay  as  that  to  which  the  one 
that  bore  Gongylus  had  directed  its  course.  Thrasyllus  and 
his  companions  watched  the  boat  that  bore  Pausanias  and  his 
two  comrades  as  it  bounded,  arrow-like,  over  the  glassy  sea. 

"Whither  goes  Pausanias?"  asked  one  of  the  Spartans. 

1  Pausanias,  Laconica,  x.  *  Ibid.,  c.  xviii. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  221 

"Back  to  Byzantium  on  business,"  replied  Thrasyllus. 

"And  we?" 

"Are  to  cruise  in  the  bay  till  bis  return." 

"Pausanias  is  changed." 

"  Sparta  will  restore  him  to  what  he  was.  Nothing  thrives 
out  of  Sparta.     Even  man  spoils." 

"True,  sleep  is  the  sole  constant  friend,  the  same  in  all 
climates." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

On  the  shore  to  the  right  of  the  port  of  Byzantium  were  at 
that  time  thickly  scattered  the  villas  or  suburban  retreats  of 
the  wealthier  and  more  luxurious  citizens.  Byzantium  was 
originally  colonized  by  the  Megarians,  a  Dorian  race  kindred 
with  that  of  Sparta,  and  the  old  features  of  the  pure  and 
antique  Hellas  were  still  preserved  in  the  dialect,  ^  as  well  as 
in  the  forms  of  the  descendants  of  the  colonists;  in  their 
favourite  deities  and  rites  and  traditions ;  even  in  the  names 
of  places,  transferred  from  the  sterile  Megara  to  that  fertile 
coast ;  in  the  rigid  and  helot-like  slavery  to  which  the  native 
Bithynians  were  subjected;  and  in  the  attachment  of  their 
masters  to  the  oligarchic  principles  of  government.  Nor  was 
it  till  long  after  the  present  date  that  democracy,  in  its  most 
corrupt  and  licentious  form,  was  introduced  amongst  them. 
But  like  all  the  Dorian  colonies,  when  once  they  departed 
from  the  severe  and  masculine  mode  of  life  inherited  from 
their  ancestors,  the  reaction  was  rapid,  the  degeneracy  com- 
plete. Even  then  the  Byzantines,  intermingled  with  the  for- 
eign merchants  and  traders  that  thronged  their  haven,  and 
womanized  by  the  soft  contagion  of  the  East,  were  voluptuous, 
timid,  and  prone  to  every  excess  save  that  of  valour.  The  higher 
class  were  exceedingly  wealthy,  and  gave  to  their  vices  or 

1  The  Byzantine  dialect  was  in  the  time  of  Philip,  as  we  know  from  the 
decree  in  Demosthenes,  rich  in  Dorisms.  —  Miiller  on  the  Doric  Dialect. 


222  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAK 

their  pleasures  a  splendour  and  refinement  of  which  the  elder 
States  of  Greece  were  as  yet  unconscious.  At  a  later  period, 
indeed,  we  are  informed  that  the  Byzantine  citizens  had  their 
habitual  residence  in  the  public  hostels,  and  let  their  houses 
—  not  even  taking  the  trouble  to  remove  their  wives  —  to  the 
strangers  who  crowded  their  gay  capital.  And  when  their 
general  found  it  necessary  to  demand  their  aid  on  the  ram- 
parts, he  could  only  secure  their  attendance  by  ordering  the 
taverns  and  cookshops  to  be  removed  to  the  place  of  duty. 
Not  yet  so  far  sunk  in  sloth  and  debauch,  the  Byzantines 
were  nevertheless  hosts  eminently  dangerous  to  the  austerer 
manners  of  their  Greek  visitors.  The  people,  the  women,  the 
delicious  wine,  the  balm  of  the  subduing  climate,  served  to 
tempt  the  senses  and  relax  the  mind.  Like  all  the  Dorians, 
when  freed  from  primitive  restraint,  the  higher  class,  that 
is,  the  descendants  of  the  colonists,  were  in  themselves  an 
agreeable,  jovial  race.  They  had  that  strong  bias  to  humour, 
to  jest,  to  satire,  which  in  their  ancestral  Megara  gave  birth 
to  the  Grecian  comedy,  and  which  lurked  even  beneath  the 
pithy  aphorisms  and  rude  merry-makings  of  the  severe 
Spartan. 

Such  were  the  people  with  whom  of  late  Pausanias  had 
familiarly  mixed,  and  with  whose  manners  he  contrasted,  far 
too  favourably  for  his  honour  and  his  peace,  the  habits  of  his 
countrymen. 

It  was  in  one  of  the  villas  we  have  described,  the  favourite 
abode  of  the  rich  Diagoras,  and  in  an  apartment  connected 
with  those  more  private  recesses  of  the  house  appropriated 
to  the  females,  that  two  persons  were  seated  by  a  window 
which  commanded  a  wide  view  of  the  glittering  sea  below. 
One  of  these  was  an  old  man  in  a  long  robe  that  reached  to 
his  feet,  with  a  bald  head  and  a  beard  in  which  some  dark 
hairs  yet  withstood  the  encroachments  of  the  gray.  In  his 
well-cut  features  and  large  eyes  were  remains  of  the  beauty 
that  characterized  his  race ;  but  the  mouth  was  full  and  wide, 
the  forehead  low,  though  broad,  the  cheeks  swollen,  the  chin 
double,  and  the  whole  form  corpulent  and  unwieldy.  Still, 
there  was  a  jolly,  sleek  good-humour  about  the  aspect  of  the 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  223 

man  that  prepossessed  you  in  his  favour.  This  personage, 
who  was  no  less  than  Diagoras  himself,  was  reclining  lazily 
upon  a  kind  of  narrow  sofa  cunningly  inlaid  with  ivory,  and 
studying  new  combinations  in  that  scientific  game  which 
Palamedes  is  said  to  have  invented  at  the  siege  of  Troy. 

His  companion  was  of  a  very  different  appearance.  She 
was  a  girl  who  to  the  eye  of  a  Northern  stranger  might 
have  seemed  about  eighteen,  though  she  was  probably  much 
younger,  of  a  countenance  so  remarkable  for  intelligence  that 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  her  mind  had  outgrown  her  years. 
Beautiful  she  certainly  was,  yet  scarcely  of  that  beauty  from 
which  the  Greek  sculptor  would  have  drawn  his  models.  The 
features  were  not  strictly  regular,  and  yet  so  harmoniously 
did  each  blend  with  each  that  to  have  amended  one  would 
have  spoiled  the  whole.  There  was  in  the  fulness  and  depth 
of  the  large  but  genial  eye,  with  its  sweeping  fringe,  and 
straight,  slightly  chiselled  brow,  more  of  Asia  than  of  Greece. 
The  lips,  of  the  freshest  red,  were  somewhat  full  and  pout- 
ing, and  dimples  without  number  lay  scattered  round  them,  — 
lurking-places  for  the  Loves.  Her  complexion  was  clear, 
though  dark,  and  the  purest  and  most  virgin  bloom  mantled, 
now  paler,  now  richer,  through  the  soft  surface.  At  the  time 
we  speak  of  she  was  leaning  against  the  open  door  with  her 
arms  crossed  on  her  bosom,  and  her  face  turned  towards  the 
Byzantine.  Her  robe,  of  a  deep  yellow,  so  trying  to  the  fair 
women  of  the  North,  became  well  the  glowing  colours  of  her 
beauty,  —  the  damask  cheek,  the  purple  hair.  Like  those  of 
the  lonians,  the  sleeves  of  the  robe,  long  and  loose,  descended 
to  her  hands,  which  were  marvellously  small  and  delicate. 
Long  earrings,  which  terminated  in  a  kind  of  berry,  studded 
with  precious  stones,  then  common  only  with  the  women  of 
the  East;  a  broad  collar,  or  necklace,  of  the  smaragdus,  or 
emerald;  and  large  clasps,  medallion-like,  where  the  swan- 
like throat  joined  the  graceful  shoulder,  —  gave  to  her  dress 
an  appearance  of  opulence  and  splendour  that  betokened  how 
much  the  ladies  of  Byzantium  had  borrowed  from  the  fashions 
of  the  Oriental  world.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  lightness  of 
her  form,  rounded,  it  is  true,  but  slight  and  girlish;  and  the 


224  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

high  instep,  with  the  slender  foot,  so  well  set  off  by  the  em- 
broidered sandal,  would  have  suited  such  dances  as  those  in 
which  the  huntress  nymphs  of  Delos  moved  around  Diana. 
The  natural  expression  of  her  face,  if  countenance  so  mobile 
and  changeful  had  one  expression  more  predominant  than 
another,  appeared  to  be  irresistibly  arch  and  joyous,  as  of 
one  full  of  youth  and  conscious  of  her  beauty;  yet  if  a  cloud 
came  over  the  face,  nothing  could  equal  the  thoughtful  and 
deep  sadness  of  the  dark,  abstracted  eyes,  as  if  some  touch  of 
higher  and  more  animated  emotion,  such  as  belongs  to  pride, 
or  courage,  or  intellect,  vibrated  on  the  heart.  The  colour 
rose,  the  form  dilated,  the  lip  quivered,  the  eye  flashed  light, 
and  the  mirthful  expression  heightened  almost  into  the  sub- 
lime. Yet,  lovely  as  Cleonice  was  deemed  at  Byzantium, 
lovelier  still  as  she  would  have  appeared  in  modern  eyes,  she 
failed  in  what  the  Greeks  generally,  but  especially  the  Spar- 
tans, deemed  an  essential  of  beauty,  —in  height  of  stature. 
Accustomed  to  look  upon  the  virgin  but  as  the  future  mother 
of  a  race  of  warriors,  the  Spartans  saw  beauty  only  in  those 
proportions  which  promised  a  robust  and  stately  progeny; 
and  the  reader  may  remember  the  well-known  story  of  the 
opprobrious  reproaches,  even,  it  is  said,  accompanied  with 
stripes,  which  the  ephors  addressed  to  a  Spartan  king  for 
presuming  to  make  choice  of  a  wife  below  the  ordinary 
stature.  Cleonice  was  small  and  delicate,  rather  like  the 
Peri  of  the  Persian  than  the  sturdy  Grace  of  the  Dorian. 
But  her  beauty  was  her  least  charm.  She  had  all  that  femi- 
nine fascination  of  manner,  wayward,  varying,  inexpressible, 
yet  irresistible,  which  seizes  hold  of  the  imagination,  as  well 
as  the  senses,  and  which  has  so  often  made  willing  slaves  of 
the  proud  rulers  of  the  world.  In  fact,  Cleonice,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Diagoras,  had  enjoyed  those  advantages  of  womanly 
education  wholly  unknown  at  that  time  to  the  freeborn  ladies 
of  Greece  proper,  but  which  gave  to  the  women  of  some  of 
the  isles  and  Ionian  cities  their  celebrity  in  ancient  story. 
Her  mother  was  of  Miletus,  famed  for  the  intellectual  culti- 
vation of  the  sex,  no  less  than  for  their  beauty ;  of  Miletus, 
the  birthplace  of  Aspasia;   of  Miletus,    from  which  those 


PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN".  225 

remarkable  women  who,  under  the  name  of  Hetaerae,  exer- 
cised afterwards  so  signal  an  influence  over  the  mind  and 
manners  of  Athens,  chiefly  derived  their  origin,  and  who 
seem  to  have  inspired  an  affection  which,  in  depth,  con- 
stancy, and  fervour,  approached  to  the  more  chivalrous  pas- 
sion of  the  North.  Such  an  education  consisted  not  only 
in  the  feminine  and  household  arts  honoured  universally 
throughout  Greece,  but  in  a  kind  of  spontaneous  and  luxu- 
riant cultivation  of  all  that  captivates  the  fancy  and  enlivens 
the  leisure.  If  there  were  something  pedantic  in  their  affec- 
tation of  philosophy,  it  was  so  graced  and  vivified  by  a  bril- 
liancy of  conversation,  a  charm  of  manner  carried  almost  to  a 
science,  a  womanly  facility  of  softening  all  that  comes  within 
their  circle,  of  suiting  yet  refining  each  complexity  and  dis- 
cord of  character  admitted  to  their  intercourse,  that  it  had  at 
least  nothing  masculine  or  harsh.  Wisdom,  taken  lightly  or 
easily,  seemed  but  another  shape  of  poetry.  The  matrons  of 
Athens,  who  could  often  neither  read  nor  write,  —  ignorant, 
vain,  tawdry,  and  not  always  faithful,  if  we  may  trust  to  such 
scandal  as  has  reached  the  modern  time,  —  must  have  seemed 
insipid  beside  these  brilliant  strangers;  and  while  certainly 
wanting  their  power  to  retain  love,  must  have  had  but  a 
doubtful  superiority  in  the  qualifications  that  ensure  esteem. 
But  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  the  Hetserse  (that  mysterious 
and  important  class  peculiar  to  a  certain  state  of  society,  and 
whose  appellation  we  cannot  render  by  any  proper  word  in 
modern  language)  monopolized  all  the  graces  of  their  country- 
women. In  the  same  cities  were  many  of  unblemished  virtue 
and  repute  who  possessed  equal  cultivation  and  attraction,  but 
whom  a  more  decorous  life  has  concealed  from  the  equivocal 
admiration  of  posterity,  though  the  numerous  female  disciples 
of  Pythagoras  throw  some  light  on  their  capacity  and  intellect. 
Amongst  such  as  these  had  been  the  mother  of  Cleonice,  not 
long  since  dead ;  and  her  daughter  inherited  and  equalled  her 
accomplishments,  while  her  virgin  youth,  her  inborn  playful- 
ness of  manner,  her  pure  guilelessness,  which  the  secluded 
habits  of  the  unmarried  women  at  Byzantium  preserved  from 
all  contagion,  gave  to  qualities  and  gifts  so  little  published 

15 


226  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

abroad,  the  effect  as  it  were  of  a  happy  and  wondrous  inspira- 
tion rather  than  of  elaborate  culture. 

Such  was  the  fair  creature  whom  Diagoras,  looking  up 
from  his  pastime,  thus  addressed:  — 

"And  so,  perverse  one,  thou  canst  not  love  this  great  hero, 
a  proper  person  truly,  and  a  mighty  warrior,  who  will  eat  you 
an  army  of  Persians  at  a  meal.  These  Spartan  fighting-cocks 
want  no  garlic,  I  warrant  you.^  And  yet  you  can't  love  him, 
you  little  rogue !  " 

"Why,  my  father,"  said  Cleonice,  with  an  arch  smile  and 
a  slight  blush,  "even  if  I  did  look  kindly  on  Pausanias, 
would  it  not  be  to  my  own  sorrow?  What  Spartan  —  above 
all,  what  royal  Spartan  —  may  marry  with  a  foreigner  and  a 
Byzantine?" 

"  I  did  not  precisely  talk  of  marriage,  —  a  very  happy  state, 
doubtless,  to  those  who  dislike  too  quiet  a  life,  and  a  very 
honourable  one;  for  war  is  honour  itself.  But  I  did  not 
speak  of  that,  Cleonice.  I  would  only  say  that  this  man  of 
might  loves  thee ;  that  he  is  rich,  rich,  rich.  Pretty  pickings 
at  Platasa;  and  we  have  known  losses,  my  child,  sad  losses. 
And  if  you  do  not  love  him,  why,  you  can  but  smile  and  talk 
as  if  you  did,  and  when  the  Spartan  goes  home,  you  will  lose 
a  tormentor  and  gain  a  dowry." 

"  My  father,  for  shame !  " 

"Who  talks  of  shame?  You  women  are  always  so  sharp  at 
finding  oracles  in  oak-leaves  that  one  don't  wonder  Apollo 
makes  choice  of  your  sex  for  his  priests.  But  listen  to  me, 
girl,  seriously,"  and  here  Diagoras  with  a  great  effort  raised 
himself  on  his  elbow,  and  lowering  his  voice,  spoke  with  evi- 
dent earnestness.  "Pausanias  has  life  and  death,  and,  what 
is  worse,  wealth  or  poverty  in  his  hands ;  he  can  raise  or  ruin 
us  with  a  nod  of  his  head,  this  black-curled  Jupiter.  They 
tell  me  that  he  is  fierce,  irascible,  haughty;  and  what  slighted 
lover  is  not  revengeful?    For  my  sake,  Cleonice,  for  your  poor 

1  Fighting-cocks  were  fed  with  garlic  to  make  them  more  fierce.  The 
learned  reader  will  remember  how  Theoriis  advised  Dicaeopolis  to  keep  clear 
of  the  Thracians  with  garlic  in  their  mouths. —  See  the  "Acharnians"  of 
Aristophanes. 


PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN.  227 

father's  sake,  show  no  scorn,  no  repugnance;  be  gentle,  play 
with  him,  draw  not  down  the  thunderbolt,  even  if  you  turn 
from  the  golden  shower." 

While  Diagoras  spoke,  the  girl  listened  with  downcast  eyes 
and  flushed  cheeks,  and  there  was  an  expression  of  such  shame 
and  sadness  on  her  countenance  that  even  the  Byzantine,  paus- 
ing and  looking  up  for  a  reply,  was  startled  by  it. 

"My  child,"  said  he,  hesitatingly  and  absorbed,  "do  not 
misconceive  me.  Cursed  be  the  hour  when  the  Spartan  saw 
thee;  but  since  the  Fates  have  so  served  us,  let  us  not 
make  bad  worse.  I  love  thee,  Cleonice,  more  dearly  than 
the  apple  of  my  eye;  it  is  for  thee  I  fear,  for  thee  I  speak. 
Alas !  it  is  not  dishonour  I  recommend,  it  is  force  I  would 
shun." 

"  Force ! "  said  the  girl,  drawing  up  her  form  with  sudden 
animation.  "Fear  not  that.  It  is  not  Pausanias  I  dread, 
it  is  —  " 

"What  then?" 

"No  matter;  talk  of  this  no  more.     Shall  I  sing  to  thee?" 

"But  Pausanias  will  visit  us  this  very  night." 

"  I  know  it.  Hark ! "  and  with  her  finger  to  her  lip,  her 
ear  bent  downward,  her  cheek  varying  from  pale  to  red,  from 
red  to  pale,  the  maiden  stole  beyond  the  window  to  a  kind  of 
platform  or  terrace  that  overhung  the  sea.  There,  the  faint 
breeze  stirring  her  long  hair,  and  the  moonlight  full  upon  her 
face,  she  stood  as  stood  that  immortal  priestess  who  looked 
along  the  starry  Hellespont  for  the  young  Leander;  and  her 
ear  had  not  deceived  her.  The  oars  were  dashing  in  the  waves 
below,  and  dark  and  rapid  the  boat  bounded  on  towards  the 
rocky  shore.  She  gazed  long  and  steadfastly  on  the  dim  and 
shadowy  forms  which  that  slender  raft  contained,  and  her  eye 
detected  amongst  the  three  the  loftier  form  of  her  haughty 
wooer.  Presently  the  thick  foliage  that  clothed  the  descent 
shut  the  boat,  nearing  the  strand,  from  her  view ;  but  she  now 
heard  below,  mellowed  and  softened  in  the  still  and  fragrant 
air,  the  sound  of  the  cithara  and  the  melodious  song  of  the 
Mothon,  thus  imperfectly  rendered  from  the  language  of 
immortal  melody. 


228  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAK 


SONG. 

Carry  a  sword  in  the  myrtle-bough, 
Ye  who  would  honour  the  tyrant-slayer; 
I,  in  the  leaves  of  the  myrtle-bough, 
Carry  a  tyrant  to  slay  myself. 

I  plucked  the  branch  with  a  hasty  hand, 
But  Love  was  lurking  amidst  the  leaves ; 
His  bow  is  bent  and  his  shaft  is  poised, 
And  I  must  perish  or  pass  the  bough. 

Maiden,  I  come  with  a  gift  to  thee ; 
Maiden,  I  come  with  a  myrtle  wreath : 
Over  thy  forehead  or  round  thy  breast 
Bind,  I  implore  thee,  my  myrtle  wreath.^ 

From  hand  to  hand  by  the  banquet  lights 
On  with  the  myrtle-bough  passes  song ; 
From  hand  to  hand  by  the  silent  stars 
What  with  the  myrtle-wreath  passes  ?     Love. 

I  bear  the  god  in  a  myrtle-wreath : 
Under  the  stars  let  him  pass  to  thee ; 
Empty  his  quiver  and  bind  his  wings, 
Then  pass  the  myrtle-wreath  back  to  me. 

Cleonice  Hstened  breathlessly  to  the  words,  and  sighed 
heavily  as  they  ceased.  Then,  as  the  foliage  rustled  below, 
she  turned  quickly  into  the  chamber  and  seated  herself  at  a 
little  distance  from  Diagoras,  — to  all  appearance  calm,  indif- 
ferent, and  composed.  Was  it  nature,  or  the  arts  of  Miletus, 
that  taught  the  young  beauty  the  hereditary  artifices  of  the 
sex? 

"So  it  is  he,  then?"  said  Diagoras,  with  a  fidgety  and 
nervous  trepidation.  "Well,  he  chooses  strange  hours  to 
visit  us.  But  he  is  right;  his  visits  cannot  be  too  private. 
Cleonice,  you  look  provokingly  at  your  ease." 

Cleonice  made  no  reply,  but  shifted  her  position  so  that  the 
light  from  the  lamp  did  not  fall  upon  her  face,  while  her 

1  Garlands  were  twined  round  the  neck,  or  placed  upon  the  bosom 
{inroevfjilaSes).  See  the  quotations  from  Alcseus,  Sappho,  and  Anacreon  in 
Athenaeus,  book  xiii.  c.  17. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAX.  229 

father,  hurrying  to  the  threshold  of  his  hall  to  receive  his 
illustrious  visitor,  soon  re-appeared  with  the  Spartan  regent, 
talking  as  he  entered  with  the  volubility  of  one  of  the  para- 
sites of  Alciphron  and  Athenaeus. 

"  This  is  most  kind,  most  affable.  Cleonice  said  you  would 
come,  Pausanias,  though  I  began  to  distrust  you.  The  hours 
seem  long  to  those  who  expect  pleasure." 

"And,  Cleonice,  you  knew  that  I  should  come,"  said 
Pausanias,  approaching  the  fair  Byzantine;  but  his  step 
was  timid,  and  there  was  no  pride  now  in  his  anxious  eye 
and  bended  brow. 

"  You  said  you  would  come  to-night, "  said  Cleonice,  calmly ; 
"and  Spartans,  according  to  proverbs,  speak  the  truth." 

"When  it  is  to  their  advantage,  yes,"^  said  Pausanias, 
with  a  slight  curl  of  his  lips;  and  as  if  the  girl's  compliment 
to  his  countrymen  had  roused  his  spleen  and  changed  his 
thoughts,  he  seated  himself  moodily  by  Cleonice  and  remained 
silent. 

The  Byzantine  stole  an  arch  glance  at  the  Spartan,  as  he 
thus  sat,  from  the  corner  of  her  eyes,  and  said,  after  a 
pause,  — 

"You  Spartans  ought  to  speak  the  truth  more  than  other 
people,  for  you  say  much  less.  We  too  have  our  proverb  at 
Byzantium,  and  one  which  implies  that  it  requires  some  wit 
to  tell  fibs." 

"  Child,  child ! "  exclaimed  Diagoras,  holding  up  his  hand 
reprovingly,  and  directing  a  terrified  look  at  the  Spartan.  To 
his  great  relief,  Pausanias  smiled,  and  replied,  — 

"  Fair  maiden,  we  Dorians  are  said  to  have  a  wit  peculiar 
to  ourselves ;  but  I  confess  that  it  is  of  a  nature  that  is  but 
little  attractive  to  your  sex.  The  Athenians  are  blander 
wooers." 

"Do  you  ever  attempt  to  woo  in  Lacedsemon,  then?  Ah, 
but  the  maidens  there,  perhaps,  are  not  difficult  to  please." 

*  So  said  Thncydides  of  the  Spartans  many  years  afterwards.  "  They  give 
evidence  of  honour  among  themselves,  but  with  respect  to  others  they  consider 
honourable  whatever  pleases  them,  and  just  whatever  is  to  their  advantage." 
See  Thucydides,  lib.  v. 


230  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

"The  girl  puts  me  in  a  cold  sweat,"  muttered  Diagoras, 
wiping  his  brow.  And  this  time  Fausanias  did  not  smile  j 
he  coloured,  and  answered  gravely,  — 

"And  is  it,  then,  a  vain  hope  for  a  Spartan  to  please  a 
Byzantine?" 

"You  puzzle  me.     That  is  an  enigma:  put  it  to  the  oracle." 

The  Spartan  raised  his  eyes  towards  Cleonice;  and  as  she 
saw  the  inquiring,  perplexed  look  that  his  features  assumed, 
the  ruby  lips  broke  into  so  wicked  a  smile,  and  the  eyes  that 
met  his  had  so  much  laughter  in  them,  that  Pausanias  was 
fairly  bewitched  out  of  his  own  displeasure. 

"Ah,  cruel  one,"  said  he,  lowering  his  voice,  "I  am  not  so 
proud  of  being  Spartan  that  the  thought  should  console  me 
for  thy  mockery." 

"Not  proud  of  being  Spartan!  Say  not  so,"  exclaimed 
Cleonice.  "Who  ever  speaks  of  Greece,  and  places  not 
Sparta  at  her  head?  Who  ever  speaks  of  freedom,  and  for- 
gets Thermopylae?  Who  ever  burns  for  glory,  and  sighs  not 
for  the  fame  of  Pausanias  and  Platsea?  Ah,  yes,  even  in  jest 
say  not  that  yon  are  not  proud  to  be  a  Spartan ! " 

"  The  little  fool  I "  cried  Diagoras,  chuckling,  and  mightily 
delighted;  "she  is  quite  mad  about  Sparta,  — no  wonder! " 

Pausanias,  surprised  and  moved  by  the  burst  of  the  fair 
Byzantine,  gazed  at  her  admiringly,  and  thought  within  him- 
self how  harshly  the  same  sentiment  would  have  sounded  on 
the  lips  of  a  tall  Spartan  virgin ;  but  when  Cleonice  heard  the 
approving  interlocution  of  Diagoras,  her  enthusiasm  vanished 
from  her  face,  and  putting  out  her  lips  poutingly,  she  said, 
"Nay,  Father,  I  repeat  only  what  others  say  of  the  Spartans. 
They  are  admirable  heroes;  but  from  the  little  I  have  seen, 
they  are  —  " 

"What?"  said  Pausanias,  eagerly,  and  leaning  nearer  to 
Cleonice. 

"Proud,  dictatorial,  and  stern  as  companions." 

Pausanias  once  more  drew  back. 

"There  it  is  again! "  groaned  Diagoras.  "I  feel  exactly  as 
if  I  were  playing  at  odd-and-even  with  a  lion;  she  does  it  to 
vex  me.     I  shall  retaliate  and  creep  away." 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  231 

"Cleonice,"  said  Pausanias,  with  suppressed  emotion,  "you 
trifle  with  me,  and  I  bear  it." 

"You  are  condescending.  How  would  you  avenge 
yourself?" 

"How?" 

"  You  would  not  beat  me ;  you  would  not  make  me  bear  an 
anchor  on  the  shoulders,  as  they  say  you  do  your  soldiers. 
Shame  on  you!  you  bear  with  me!  True,  what  help  for 
you?" 

"Maiden,"  said  the  Spartan,  rising  in  great  anger,  "for 
him  who  loves  and  is  slighted  there  is  a  revenge  you  have  not 
mentioned." 

"For  him  who  lovea!  No,  Spartan;  for  him  who  shuns 
disgrace  and  courts  the  fame  dear  to  gods  and  men,  there  is 
no  revenge  upon  women.     Blush  for  your  threat." 

"You  madden,  but  subdue  me,"  said  the  Spartan  as  he 
turned  away.  He  then  first  perceived  that  Diagoras  had 
gone, — that  they  were  alone.  His  contempt  for  the  father 
awoke  suspicion  of  the  daughter.  Again  he  approached,  and 
said:  "Cleonice,  I  know  but  little  of  the  fables  of  poets;  yet 
is  it  an  old  maxim,  often  sung  and  ever  belied,  that  love 
scorned  becomes  hate.  There  are  moments  when  I  think  I 
hate  thee." 

"And  yet  thou  hast  never  loved  me,"  said  Cleonice;  and 
there  was  something  soft  and  tender  in  the  tone  of  her  voice, 
and  the  rough  Spartan  was  again  subdued. 

"I  never  loved  thee!  What,  then,  is  love?  Is  not  thine 
image  always  before  me?  Amidst  schemes,  amidst  perils,  of 
which  thy  very  dreams  have  never  presented  equal  perplexity 
or  phantoms  so  uncertain,  I  am  occupied  but  with  thee. 
Surely,  as  upon  the  hyacinth  is  written  the  exclamation  of  woe, 
so  on  this  heart  is  graven  thy  name.  Cleonice,  you  who  know 
not  what  it  is  to  love,  you  affect  to  deny  or  to  question  mine." 

"  And  what, "  said  Cleonice,  blushing  deeply,  and  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  "what  result  can  come  from  such  a  love?  You 
may  not  wed  with  the  stranger.  And  yet,  Pausanias,  yet  you 
know  that  all  other  love  dishonours  the  virgin  even  of  Byzan- 
tium.    You  are  silent;  you  turn  away.     Ah,  do  not  let  them 


232  PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN^. 

wrong  you.  My  father  fears  your  power.  If  you  love  me 
you  are  powerless;  your  power  has  passed  to  me.  Is  it  not 
so?  I,  a  weak  girl,  can  rule,  command,  irritate,  mock  you, 
if  I  will.     You  may  fly  me,  but  not  control." 

"Do  not  tempt  me  too  far,  Cleonice,"  said  the  Spartan, 
with  a  faint  smile. 

"Nay,  I  will  be  merciful  henceforth;  and  you,  Pausanias, 
come  here  no  more.  Awake  to  the  true  sense  of  what  is  due 
to  your  divine  ancestry,  your  great  name.  Is  it  not  told  of 
you  that,  after  the  fall  of  Mardonius,  you  nobly  dismissed  to 
her  country,  unscathed  and  honoured,  the  captive  Coan  lady?i 
Will  you  reverse  at  Byzantium  the  fame  acquired  at  Platsea? 
Pausanias,  spare  us;  appeal  not  to  my  father's  fear,  still  less 
to  his  love  of  gold." 

"  I  cannot,  I  cannot  fly  thee, "  said  the  Spartan,  with  great 
emotion.  "You  know  not  how  stormy,  how  inexorable,  are 
the  passions  which  burst  forth  after  a  whole  youth  of  re- 
straint. When  Nature  breaks  the  barriers,  she  rushes  head- 
long on  her  course.  I  am  no  gentle  wooer :  where  in  Sparta 
should  I  learn  the  art?  But  if  I  love  thee  not  as  these 
mincing  lonians,  who  come  with  offerings  of  flowers  and 
song,  I  do  love  thee  with  all  that  fervour  of  which  the  old 
Dorian  legends  tell.  I  could  brave,  like  the  Thracian,  the 
dark  gates  of  Hades,  were  thy  embrace  my  reward.  Com- 
mand me  as  thou  wilt, — make  me  thy  slave  in  all  things, 
even  as  Hercules  was  to  Omphale;  but  tell  me  only  that  I 
may  win  thy  love  at  last.  Fear  not.  Why  fear  me?  In  my 
wildest  moments  a  look  from  thee  can  control  me.  I  ask  but 
love  for  love.  Without  thy  love  thy  beauty  were  valueless. 
Bid  me  not  despair." 

Cleonice  turned  pale,  and  the  large  tears  that  had  gathered 
in  her  eyes  fell  slowly  down  her  cheeks;  but  she  did  not 
withdraw  her  hand  from  his  clasp,  or  avert  her  countenance 
from  his  eyes. 

"I  do  not  fear  thee,"  said  she,  in  a  very  low  voice.  "I  told 
my  father  so ;  but  —  but  —  "  (and  here  she  drew  back  her  hand 
and  averted  her  face)  "I  fear  myself." 

1  Herodotus,  ix. 


PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN.  233 

"Ah,  no,  no,"  cried  the  delighted  Spartan,  detaining  her; 
"do  not  fear  to  trust  to  thine  own  heart.  Talk  not  of  dis- 
honour. There  are,"  and  here  the  Spartan  drew  himself  up, 
and  his  voice  took  a  deeper  swell,  —  "  there  are  those  on  earth 
who  hold  themselves  above  the  miserable  judgments  of  the 
vulgar  herd,  who  can  emancipate  themselves  from  those  gall- 
ing chains  of  custom  and  of  country  which  helotize  affection, 
genius.  Nature  herself.  What  is  dishonour  here  may  be  glory 
elsewhere;  and  this  hand,  outstretched  towards  a  mightier 
sceptre  than  Greek  ever  wielded  yet,  may  dispense,  not  shame 
and  sorrow,  but  glory  and  golden  affluence  to  those  I  love." 

"You  amaze  me,  Pausanias.  Now  I  fear  you.  What  mean 
these  mysterious  boasts?  Have  you  the  dark  ambition  to 
restore  in  your  own  person  that  race  of  tyrants  whom  your 
country  hath  helped  to  sweep  away?  Can  you  hope  to  change 
the  laws  of  Sparta,  and  reign  there,  your  will  the  State?  " 

"  Cleonice,  we  touch  upon  matters  that  should  not  disturb 
the  ears  of  women.  Forgive  me  if  I  have  been  roused  from 
myself." 

"  At  Miletus  —  so  have  I  heard  my  mother  say  —  there  were 
women  worthy  to  be  the  confidants  of  men. " 

"But  they  were  women  who  loved.  Cleonice,  I  should 
rejoice  in  an  hour  when  I  might  pour  every  thought  into 
thy  bosom." 

At  this  moment  there  was  heard  on  the  strand  below  a 
single  note  from  the  Mothon's  instrument,  low,  but  pro- 
longed; it  ceased,  and  was  again  renewed.  The  royal  con- 
spirator started,  and  breathed  hard. 

"It  is  the  signal,"  he  muttered;  "they  wait  me.  Cleonice," 
he  said  aloud,  and  with  much  earnestness  in  his  voice,  "  I  had 
hoped,  ere  we  parted,  to  have  drawn  from  your  lips  those 
assurances  which  would  give  me  energy  for  the  present,  and 
hope  in  the  future.  Ah,  turn  not  from  me  because  my  speech 
is  plain,  and  my  manner  rugged.  What,  Cleonice,  what  if  I 
could  defy  the  laws  of  Sparta;  what  if,  instead  of  that  gloomy 
soil,  I  could  bear  thee  to  lands  where  heaven  and  man  alike 
smile  benignant  on  love?    Might  I  not  hope  then?" 

"Do  nothing  to  sully  your  fame." 


234  PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN. 

"Is  it,  then,  dear  to  thee?" 

"It  is  a  part  of  thee,"  said  Cleonice,  falteringly;  and  as  if 
she  had  said  too  much,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Emboldened  by  this  emotion,  the  Spartan  gave  way  to  his 
passion  and  his  joy.  He  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  —  his  first 
embrace,  — and  kissed,  with  wild  fervour,  the  crimsoned  fore- 
head, the  veiling  hands.  Then,  as  he  tore  himself  away,  he 
cast  his  right  arm  aloEt. 

"  0  Hercules ! "  he  cried,  in  a  solemn  and  kindling  adjura- 
tion, "my  ancestor  and  my  divine  guardian,  it  was  not  by 
confining  thy  labours  to  one  spot  of  earth  that  thou  wert 
borne  from  thy  throne  of  fire  to  the  seats  of  the  Gods.  Like 
thee,  I  will  spread  the  influence  of  my  arms  to  nations  whose 
glory  shall  be  my  name;  and  as  thy  sons,  my  fathers,  ex- 
pelled from  Sparta,  returned  thither  with  sword  and  spear 
to  defeat  usurpers  and  to  found  the  long  dynasty  of  the  Her- 
acleids,  even  so  may  it  be  mine  to  visit  that  dread  abode  of 
torturers  and  spies,  and  to  build  up  in  the  halls  of  the  Atridse 
a  power  worthier  of  the  lineage  of  the  demigod.  Again  the 
signal !  Fear  not,  Cleonice,  I  will  not  tarnish  my  fame,  but 
I  will  exchange  the  envy  of  abhorring  rivals  for  the  obedience 
of  a  world.     One  kiss  more!     Farewell! " 

Ere  Cleonice  recovered  herself,  Pausanias  was  gone,  his 
wild  and  uncomprehended  boasts  still  ringing  in  her  ear. 
She  sighed  heavily,  and  turned  towards  the  opening  that 
admitted  to  the  terraces.  There  she  stood  watching  for  the 
parting  of  her  lover's  boat.  It  was  midnight;  the  air,  laden 
with  the  perfumes  of  a  thousand  fragrant  shrubs  and  flowers 
that  bloom  along  that  coast  in  the  rich  luxuriance  of  Nature, 
was  hushed  and  breathless.  In  its  stillness  every  sound  was 
audible,  — the  rustling  of  a  leaf,  the  ripple  of  a  wave.  She 
heard  the  murmur  of  whispered  voices  below,  and  in  a  few 
moments  she  recognized,  emerging  from  the  foliage,  the  form 
of  Pausanias;  but  he  was  not  alone.  Who  were  his  compan- 
ions? In  the  deep  lustre  of  that  shining  and  splendid  atmos- 
phere she  could  see  sufficient  of  the  outline  of  their  figures  to 
observe  that  they  were  not  dressed  in  the  Grecian  garbj  their 
long  robes  betrayed  the  Persian. 


PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN.  235 

They  seemed  conversing  familiarly  and  eagerly  as  they 
passed  along  the  smooth  sands,  till  a  curve  in  the  wooded 
shore  hid  them  from  her  view. 

"Why  do  I  love  him  so,"  said  the  girl,  mechanically,  "and 
yet  wrestle  against  that  love?  Dark  forebodings  tell  me  that 
Aphrodite  smiles  not  on  our  vows.  Woe  is  me!  What  will 
be  the  end?" 


CHAPTEK  V. 

On  quitting  Cleonice,  Pausanias  hastily  traversed  the  long 
passage  that  communicated  with  a  square  peristyle,  or  colon- 
nade, which  again  led,  on  the  one  hand  to  the  more  public 
parts  of  the  villa,  and  on  the  other,  through  a  small  door  left 
ajar,  conducted  by  a  back  entrance  to  the  garden  and  the  sea- 
shore. Pursuing  the  latter  path,  the  Spartan  bounded  down 
the  descent,  and  came  upon  an  opening  in  the  foliage,  in 
which  Lysander  was  seated  beside  the  boat  that  had  been 
drawn  partially  on  the  strand. 

"Alone?    Where  is  Alcman?" 

"Yonder;  you  heard  his  signal?" 

"I  heard  it." 

"Pausanias,  they  who  seek  you  are  Persians.     Beware!" 

"Of  what?    Murder?     I  am  warned." 

"Murder  to  your  good  name.  There  are  no  arms  against 
appearances." 

"But  I  may  trust  thee,"  said  the  regent,  quickly,  "and  of 
Alcman's  faith  I  am  convinced." 

"  Why  trust  to  any  man  what  it  were  wisdom  to  reveal  to 
the  whole  Grecian  Council?  To  parley  secretly  with  the  foe 
is  half  a  treason  to  our  friends." 

"Lysander,"  replied  Pausanias,  coldly,  "you  have  much  to 
learn  before  you  can  be  wholly  Spartan.  Tarry  here  yet 
awhile." 

"  What  shall  T  do  with  this  boy?  "  muttered  the  conspirator 
as  he  strode  on.      "  I  know  that  he  will  not  betray  me,  yet 


236  PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN. 

can  I  hope  for  his  aid?  1  love  him  so  well  that  I  would  fain 
he  shared  my  fortunes.  Perhaps  by  little  and  little  I  may 
lead  him  on.  Meanwhile,  his  race  and  his  name  are  so  well 
accredited  in  Sparta,  his  father  himself  an  ephor,  that  his 
presence  allays  suspicion.     Well,  here  are  my  Persians." 

A  little  apart  from  the  Mothon,  who,  resting  his  cithara 
on  a  fragment  of  rock,  appeared  to  be  absorbed  in  reflection, 
stood  the  men  of  the  East.  There  were  two  of  them,  —  one 
of  tall  stature  and  noble  presence,  in  the  prime  of  life;  the 
other  more  advanced  in  years,  of  a  coarser  make,  a  yet  darker 
complexion,  and  of  a  sullen  and  gloomy  countenance.  They 
were  not  dressed  alike:  the  taller,  a  Persian  of  pure  blood, 
wore  a  short  tunic  that  reached  only  to  the  knees,  and  the 
dress  fitted  to  his  shape  without  a  single  fold.  On  his  round 
cap,  or  bonnet,  glittered  a  string  of  those  rare  pearls,  espe- 
cially and  immemorially  prized  in  the  East,  which  formed  the 
favourite  and  characteristic  ornament  of  the  illustrious  tribe 
of  the  Pasargadse.  The  other,  who  was  a  Mede,  differed 
scarcely  in  his  dress  from  Pausanias  himself,  except  that 
he  was  profusely  covered  with  ornaments;  his  arms  were 
decorated  with  bracelets,  he  wore  earrings,  and  a  broad  collar 
of  unpolished  stones  in  a  kind  of  filigree  was  suspended  from 
his  throat.  Behind  the  Orientals  stood  Gongylus,  leaning 
both  hands  on  his  staff,  and  watching  the  approach  of  Pau- 
sanias with  the  same  icy  smile  and  glittering  eye  with  which 
he  listened  to  the  passionate  invectives  or  flattered  the  dark 
ambition  of  the  Spartan.  The  Orientals  saluted  Pausanias 
with  a  lofty  gravity,  and  Gongylus,  drawing  near,  said :  "  Son 
of  Cleombrotus,  the  illustrious  Ariamanes,  kinsman  to  Xerxes 
and  of  the  house  of  the  Achsemenids,  is  so  far  versed  in  the 
Grecian  tongue  that  I  need  not  proffer  my  offices  as  inter- 
preter. In  Datis  the  Mede,  brother  to  the  most  renowned  of 
the  Magi,  you  behold  a  warrior  worthy  to  assist  the  arms  even 
of  Pausanias." 

"  I  greet  you  in  our  Spartan  phrase,  *  The  beautiful  to  the 
good, ' "  said  Pausanias,  regarding  the  Barbarians  with  an 
earnest  gaze.  "And  I  requested  Gongylus  to  lead  you  hither 
in  order  that  I  might  confer  with  you  more  at  ease  than  in 


PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN.  237 

the  confinement  to  which  I  regret  you  are  still  sentenced. 
Not  in  prisons  should  be  held  the  conversations  of  brave 
men." 

"I  know,"  said  Ariamanes,  the  statelier  of  the  Barbarians, 
in  the  Greek  tongue,  which  he  spoke  intelligibly  indeed,  but 
with  slowness  and  hesitation,  "  I  know  that  I  am  with  that 
hero  who  refused  to  dishonour  the  corpse  of  Mardonius;  and 
even  though  a  captive,  I  converse  without  shame  with  my 
victor." 

"Rested  it  with  me  alone,,  your  captivity  should  cease," 
replied  Pausanias.  "War,  that  has  made  me  acquainted  with 
the  valour  of  the  Persians,  has  also  enlightened  me  as  to  their 
character.  Your  king  has  ever  been  humane  to  such  of  the 
Greeks  as  have  sought  a  refuge  near  his  throne.  I  would  but 
imitate  his  clemency." 

"  Had  the  great  Darius  less  esteemed  the  Greeks  he  would 
never  have  invaded  Greece.  From  the  wanderers  whom  mis- 
fortune drove  to  his  realms-  he  learned  to  wonder  at  the  arts, 
the  genius,  the  energies  of  the  people  of  Hellas.  He  desired 
less  to  win  their  territories  than  to  gain  such  subjects.  Too 
vast,  alas!  was  the  work  he  bequeathed  to  Xerxes." 

"He  should  not  have  trusted  to  force  alone,"  returned 
Pausanias.  "Greece  may  be  won,  but  by  the  arts  of  her 
sons,  not  by  the  arms  of  the  stranger.  A  Greek  only  can 
subdue  Greece.  By  such  profound  knowledge  of  the  factions, 
the  interests,  the  envies,  and  the  jealousies  of  each  State  as  a 
Greek  alone  can  possess,  the  mistaken  chain  that  binds  them 
might  be  easily  severed;  some  bought,  some  intimidated,  and 
the  few  that  hold  out  subdued  amidst  the  apathy  of  the  rest." 

"You  speak  wisely,  right  hand  of  Hellas,"  answered  the 
Persian,  who  had  listened  to  these  remarks  with  deep  atten- 
tion. "  Yet  had  we  in  our  armies  your  countryman,  the  brave 
Demaratus." 

"But  if  I  have  heard  rightly,  ye  too  often  disdained  his 
counsel.  Had  he  been  listened  to,  there  had  been  neither  a 
Salamis  nor  a  Platsea.^    Yet  Demaratus  himself  had  been  too 

1  After  the  action  at  Thermopylae,  Demaratus  advised  Xerxes  to  send  three 
hundred  vessels  to  the  Laconian  coast  and  seize  the  island  of  Cythera,  which 


238  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

long  a  stranger  to  Greece,  and  he  knew  little  of  any  State  save 
that  of  Sparta.     Lives  he  still?" 

"  Surely  yes,  in  honour  and  renown,  —  little  less  than  the 
son  of  Darius  himself." 

"  And  what  reward  would  Xerxes  bestow  on  one  of  greater 
influence  than  Demaratus,  —  on  one  who  has  hitherto  con- 
quered every  foe,  and  now  beholds  before  him  the  conquest  of 
Greece  herself?  " 

"If  such  a  man  were  found,"  answered  the  Persian,  "let 
his  thought  run  loose,  let  his  imagination  rove,  let  him  seek 
only  how  to  find  a  fitting  estimate  of  the  gratitude  of  the  king 
and  the  vastness  of  the  service." 

Pausanias  shaded  his  brow  with  his  hand,  and  mused  a  few 
moments ;  then,  lifting  his  eyes  to  the  Persian's  watchful  but 
composed  countenance,  he  said,  with  a  slight  smile,  — 

"  Hard  is  it,  0  Persian,  when  the  choice  is  actually  before 
him,  for  a  man  to  renounce  his  country.  There  have  been 
hours  within  this  very  day  when  my  desires  swept  afar  from 
Sparta,  from  all  Hellas,  and  rested  on  the  tranquil  pomp  of 
Oriental  satrapies.  But  now,  rude  and  stern  parent  though 
Sparta  be  to  me,  I  feel  still  that  I  am  her  son ;  and  while  we 
speak,  a  throne  in  stormy  Hellas  seems  the  fitting  object  of  a 
Greek's  ambition.  In  a  word,  then,  I  would  rise,  and  yet 
raise  my  country.  I  would  have  at  my  will  a  force  that  may 
sufiice  to  overthrow  in  Sparta  its  grim  and  unnatural  laws,  to 
found  amidst  its  rocks  that  single  throne  which  the  son  of  a 
demigod  should  ascend.  From  that  throne  I  would  spread 
my  empire  over  the  whole  of  Greece,  Corinth  and  Athens 
being  my  tributaries.  So  that  though  men  now,  and  pos- 
terity hereafter,  may  say,  *  Pausanias  overthrew  the  Spartan 

commanded  Sparta.  "  The  profonnd  experience  of  Demaratus  in  the  selfish 
and  exclusive  policy  of  his  countrymen  made  him  argue  that  if  this  were 
done,  the  fear  of  Sparta  for  herself  would  prevent  her  joining  the  forces  of  the 
rest  of  Greece,  and  leave  the  latter  a  more  easy  prey  to  the  invader."  — Athens, 
its  Rise  and  Fall. 

This  advice  was  overruled  by  Achsemenes.  So  again,  had  the  advice  of 
Artemisia,  the  Carian  princess,  been  taken,  —  to  delay  the  naval  engagement 
of  Salamis,  and  rather  to  sail  to  the  Peloponnesus,  —  the  Greeks,  failing  of 
provisions,  and  divided  among  themselves,  would  probably  have  dispersed. 


PAUSANIAS   THE  SPAKTAK  239 

government, '  they  shall  add,  ^  but  Pausanias  annexed  to  the 
Spartan  sceptre  the  realm  of  Greece.  Pausanias  was  a  tyrant, 
but  not  a  traitor, '  How,  0  Persian,  can  these  designs  accord 
with  the  policy  of  the  Persian  king?" 

"Not  without  the  authority  of  my  master  can  I  answer 
thee,"  replied  Ariamanes,  "so  that  my  answer  may  be  as  the 
king's  signet  to  his  decree.  But  so  much  at  least  I  say:  that 
it  is  not  the  custom  of  the  Persians  to  interfere  with  the 
institutions  of  those  States  with  which  they  are  connected. 
Thou  desirest  to  make  a  monar<3hy  of  Greece,  with  Sparta  for 
its  head.  Be  it  so;  the  king  my  master  will  aid  thee  so  to 
scheme  and  so  to  reign,  provided  thou  dost  but  concede  to  him 
a  vase  of  the  water  from  thy  fountains,  a  fragment  of  earth 
from  thy  gardens." 

"In  other  words,"  said  Pausanias,  thoughtfully,  but  with  a 
slight  colour  on  his  brow,  "if  I  hold  my  dominions  tributary 
to  the  king?" 

"The  dominions  that  by  the  king's  aid  thou  wilt  have 
conquered.     Is  that  a  hard  law?" 

"  To  a  Greek  and  a  Spartan  the  very  mimicry  of  allegiance 
to  the  foreigner  is  hard." 

The  Persian  smiled.  "  Yet  if  I  understand  thee  aright,  0 
Chief,  even  kings  in  Sparta  are  but  subjects  to  their  people. 
Slave  to  a  crowd  at  home,  or  tributary  to  a  throne  abroad; 
slave  every  hour,  or  tributary  for  earth  and  water  once  a 
year,  — which  is  the  freer  lot?  " 

"Thou  canst  not  understand  our  Grecian  notions,"  replied 
Pausanias,  "nor  have  I  leisure  to  explain  them.  But  though 
I  may  subdue  Sparta  to  myself  as  to  its  native  sovereign,  I 
will  not,  even  by  a  type,  subdue  the  land  of  the  Heracleid  to 
the  Barbarian." 

Ariamanes  looked  grave;  the  difficulty  raised  was  serious. 
And  here  the  craft  of  Gongylus  interposed. 

"This  maybe  adjusted,  Ariamanes,  as  befits  both  parties. 
Let  Pausanias  rule  in  Sparta  as  he  lists,  and  Sparta  stand  free 
of  tribute.  But  for  all  other  States  and  cities  that  Pausanias, 
aided  by  the  Great  King,  shall  conquer,  let  the  vase  be  filled, 
and  the  earth  be  Grecian;  let  him  but  render  tribute  for  those 


240  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

lands  which  the  Persians-  submit  to  his  sceptre,  —  so  shall  the 
pride  of  the  Spartan  be  appeased,  and  the  claims  of  the  king 
be  satisfied," 

"Shall  it  be  so?"  said  Pausanias. 

"  Instrmct  me  so  to  propose  to  my  master,  and  I  will  do  my 
best  to  content  him  with  the  exception  to  the  wonted  rights 
of  the  Persian  diadem.  And  then,"  continued  Ariamanes, 
"then,  Pansanias,  Conqueror  of  Mardonius,  Captain  at 
Platsea,  thou  art  indeed  a  man  with  whom  the  lord  of 
Asia  may  treat  as  an  equal.  Greeks  before  thee  have  offered 
to  render  Greece  to  the  king  my  master;  but  they  were  exiles 
and  fugitives,  they  had  nothing  to  risk  or  lose^  —  thou  hast 
fame  and  command  and  power  and  riches  and  all  —  " 

"But  for  a  throne,"  interrupted  Gongylus. 

"It  does  not  matter  what  may  be  my  motives,"  returned 
the  Spartan,  gloomily,  "and  were  I  to  tell  them,  you  might 
not  comprehend.  But  so  much  by  way  of  explanation.  You 
too  have  held  command?  " 

"I  have." 

"  If  you  knew  that  when  power  became  to  you  so  sweet  that 
it  was  as  necessary  to  life  itself  as  food  and  drink,  it  would 
then  be  snatched  from  you  forever,  and  you  would  serve  as  a 
soldier  in  the  very  ranks  you  had  commanded  as  a  leader;  if 
you  knew  that  no  matter  what  your  services,  your  superiority, 
your  desires,  this  shameful  fall  was  inexorably  doomed,  — 
might  you  not  see  humiliation  in  power  itself,  obscurity  in 
renown,  gloom  in  the  present,  despair  in  the  future?  And 
would  it  not  seem  to  you  nobler  even  to  desert  the  camp  than 
to  sink  into  a  subaltern?  " 

"Such  a  prospect  has  in  our  country  made  out  of  good 
subjects  fierce  rebels,"  observed  the  Persian. 

"Ay,  ay,  I  doubt  it  not,"  said  Pausanias,  laughing  bitterly. 
"Well,  then,  such  will  be  my  lot  if  I  pluck  not  out  a  fairer 
one  from  the  Fatal  Urn.  As  regent  of  Sparta,  while  my 
nephew  is  beardless  I  am  general  of  her  armies,  and  I  have 
the  sway  and  functions  of  her  king.  When  he  arrives  at  the 
customary  age,  I  am  a  subject,  a  citizen,  a  nothing,  a  miser- 
able fool  of  memories  gnawing  my  heart  away  amidst  joyless 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  241 

customs  and  stern  austerities,  with,  the  recollection  of  the 
glories  of  Platsea  and  the  delights  of  Byzantium.  Persian, 
I  am  filled  from  the  crown  to  the  sole  with  the  desire  of 
power,  with  the  tastes  of  pleasure.  I  have  that  within  me 
which  before  my  time  has  made  heroes  and  traitors,  raised 
demigods  to  heaven,  or  chained  the  lofty  Titans  to  the  rocks 
of  Hades.  Something  I  may  yet  be;  I  know  not  what.  But 
as  the  man  never  returns  to  the  boy,  so  never,  never,  never 
once  more  can  I  be  again  the  Spartan  subject.  Enough;  such 
as  I  am,  I  can  fulfil  what  I  have  said  to  thee.  Will  thy  king 
accept  me  as  his  ally,  and  ratify  the  terms  I  have  proposed?  " 

"  I  feel  wellnigh  assured  of  it, "  answered  the  Persian ;  "  for 
since  thou  hast  spoken  thus  boldly,  I  will  answer  thee  in  the 
same  strain.  Know,  then,  that  we  of  the  pure  race  of  Persia, 
we  the  sons  of  those  who  overthrew  the  Mede,  and  extended 
the  race  of  the  mountain  tribe  from  the  Scythian  to  the  Arab, 
from  Egypt  to  Ind,  we  at  least  feel  that  no  sacrifice  were  too 
great  to  redeem  the  disgrace  we  have  suffered  at  the  hands  of 
thy  countrymen;  and  the  world  itself  were  too  small  an 
empire,  too  confined  a  breathing-place,  for  the  son  of  Darius 
if  this  nook  of  earth  were  still  left  without  the  pale  of  his 
dominion." 

"This  nook  of  earth?  Ay,  but  Sparta  itself  must  own  no 
lord  but  me." 

"It  is  agreed." 

"  If  I  release  thee,  wilt  thou  bear  these  offers  to  the  king, 
travelling  day  and  night  till  thou  restest  at  the  foot  of  his 
throne?" 

"  I  should  carry  tidings  too  grateful  to  suffer  me  to  loiter 
by  the  road." 

"And  Datis,  he  comprehends  us  not;  but  his  eyes  glitter 
fiercely  on  me.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  thy  comrade  loves  not 
the  Greek." 

"  For  that  reason  he  will  aid  us  well.  Though  but  a  Mede, 
and  not  admitted  to  the  privileges  of  the  Pasargadse,  his  rela- 
tionship to  the  most  powerful  and  learned  of  our  Magi,  and 
his  own  services  in  war,  have  won  him  such  influence  with 
both  priests  and  soldiers  that  I  would  fain  have  him  as  my 

16 


242  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

companion.  I  will  answer  for  his  fidelity  to  our  joint 
object." 

"Enough;  ye  are  both  free.  Gongylus,  you  will  now 
conduct  our  friends  to  the  place  where  the  steeds  await 
them.  You  will  then  privately  return  to  the  citadel,  and 
give  to  their  pretended  escape  the  probable  appearances  we 
devised.  Be  quick,  while  it  is  yet  night.  One  word  more. 
Persian,  our  success  depends  upon  thy  speed.  It  is  while  the 
Greeks  are  yet  at  Byzantium,  while  I  yet  am  in  command, 
that  we  should  strike  the  blow.  If  the  king  consent,  through 
Gongylus  thou  wilt  have  means  to  advise  me.  A  Persian 
army  must  march  at  once  to  the  Phrygian  confines,  instructed 
to  yield  command  to  me  when  the  hour  comes  to  assume  it. 
Delay  not  that  aid  by  such  vast  and  profitless  recruits  as 
swelled  the  pomp,  but  embarrassed  the  arms,  of  Xerxes. 
Armies  too  large  rot  by  their  own  unwieldiness  into  decay. 
A  band  of  fifty  thousand,  composed  solely  of  the  Medes  and 
Persians,  will  more  than  suffice.  With  such  an  army,  if  my 
command  be  undisputed,  I  will  win  a  second  Platsea,  but 
against  the  Greek." 

"  Your  suggestions  shall  be  law.  May  Ormuzd  favour  the 
bold!" 

"Away,  Gongylus.     You  know  the  rest." 

Pausanias  followed  with  thoughtful  eyes  the  receding  forms 
of  Gongylus  and  the  Barbarians.  "I  have  passed  forever," 
he  muttered,  "the  Pillars  of  Hercules.  I  must  go  on,  or 
perish.  If  I  fall,  I  die  execrated  and  abhorred;  if  I  succeed, 
the  sound  of  the  choral  flutes  will  drown  the  hootings.  Be  it 
as  it  may,  I  do  not  and  will  not  repent.  If  the  wolf  gnaw 
my  entrails,  none  shall  hear  me  groan."  He  turned,  and  met 
the  eyes  of  Alcman,  fixed  on  him  so  intently,  so  exultingly, 
that,  wondering  at  their  strange  expression,  he  drew  back 
and  said  haughtily,  "You  imitate  Medusa;  but  I  am  stone 
already." 

"Nay,"  said  the  Mothon,  in  a  voice  of  great  humility,  "if 
.you  are  of  stone,  it  is  like  the  divine  one  which,  when  borne 
before  armies,  secures  their  victory.  Blame  me  not  that  I 
gazed  on  you  with  triumph  and  hope ;  for  while  you  conferred 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  243 

with  the  Persian,  methought  the  murmurs  that  reached  my 
ear  sounded  thus :  *  When  Pausanias  shall  rise,  Sparta  shall 
bend  low,  and  the  Helot  shall  break  his  chains. '  " 

"They  do  not  hate  me,  these  Helots?" 

"You  are  the  only  Spartan  they  love." 

"  Were  my  life  in  danger  from  the  ephors  —  " 

"The  Helots  would  rise  to  a  man." 

"Did  I  plant  my  standard  on  Taygetus,  though  all  Sparta 
encamped  against  it  —  " 

"All  the  slaves  would  cut  their  way  to  thy  side.  O  Pau- 
sanias, think  how  much  nobler  it  were  to  reign  over  tens  of 
thousands  who  become  freemen  at  thy  word,  than  to  be  but 
the  equal  of  ten  thousand  tyrants." 

"The  Helots  fight  well,  when  well  led,"  said  Pausanias,  as 
if  to  himself.     "Launch  the  boat." 

"Pardon  me,  Pausanias,  but  is  it  prudent  any  longer  to 
trust  Ly Sander?  He  is  the  pattern  of  the  Spartan  youth, 
and  Sparta  is  his  mistress.  He  loves  her  too  well  not  to  blab 
to  her  every  secret." 

"0  Sparta,  Sparta,  wilt  thou  not  leave  me  one  friend?" 
exclaimed  Pausanias.  "No,  Alcman,  I  will  not  separate 
myself  from  Lysander  till  I  despair  of  his  alliance.  To 
your  oars;   be  quick." 

At  the  sound  of  the  Mothon^s  tread  upon  the  pebbles, 
Lysander,  who  had  hitherto  remained  motionless,  reclining 
by  the  boat,  rose  and  advanced  towards  Pausanias.  There 
was  in  his  countenance,  as  the  moon  shining  on  it  cast  over 
his  statue-like  features  a  pale  and  marble  hue,  so  much  of 
anxiety,  of  affection,  of  fear,  so  much  of  the  evident,  unmis- 
takable solicitude  of  friendship,  that  Pausanias,  who,  like 
most  men,  envied  and  unloved,  was  susceptible  even  of  the 
semblance  of  attachment,  muttered  to  himself,  "  No,  thou  wilt 
not  desert  me,  nor  I  thee." 

"My  friend,  my  Pausanias,"  said  Lysander,  as  he  ap- 
proached, "I  have  had  fears,  I  have  seen  omens.  Undertake 
nothing,  I  beseech  thee,  which  thou  hast  meditated  this  night." 

"And  what  hast  thou  seen?"  said  Pausanias,  with  a  slight 
change  of  countenance. 


244  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

"  I  was  praying  the  Gods  for  thee  and  Sparta,  when  a  star 
shot  suddenly  from  the  heavens.  Pausanias,  this  is  the  eighth 
year,  —  the  year  in  which  on  moonless  nights  the  ephors  watch 
the  heavens." 

"And  if  a  star  fall,  they  judge  their  kings,"  interrupted 
Pausanias,  with  a  curl  of  his  haughty  lip,  "  to  have  offended 
the  Gods,  and  suspend  them  from  their  office  till  acquitted  by 
an  oracle  at  Delphi,  or  a  priest  at  Olympia.  A  wise  supersti- 
tion! But,  Ly Sander,  the  night  is  not  moonless,  and  the  omen 
is  therefore  nought." 

Lysander  shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  followed  his 
chieftain  to  the  boat  in  gloomy  silence. 


i 


BOOK    11. 


CHAPTER  I. 

At  noon  the  next  day,  not  only  the  vessels  in  the  harbonr 
presented  the  same  appearance  of  inactivity  and  desertion 
which  had  characterized  the  preceding  evening,  but  the  camp 
itself  seemed  forsaken.  Pausanias  had  quitted  his  ship  for 
the  citadel  in  which  he  took  up  his  lodgment  when  on  shore, 
and  most  of  the  officers  and  sailors  of  the  squadron  were  dis- 
persed among  the  taverns  and  wine-shops,  for  which,  even  at 
that  day,  Byzantium  was  celebrated. 

It  was  in  one  of  the  lowest  and  most  popular  of  these  latter 
resorts,  and  in  a  large  and  rude  chamber,  or  rather  outhouse, 
separated  from  the  rest  of  the  building,  that  a  number  of  the 
Laconian  Helots  were  assembled.  Some  of  these  were  em- 
ployed as  sailors;  others  were  the  military  attendants  on  the 
regent  and  the  Spartans  who  accompanied  him. 

At  the  time  we  speak  of,  these  unhappy  beings  were  in  the 
full  excitement  of  that  wild  and  melancholy  gayety  which  is 
almost  peculiar  to  slaves  in  their  hours  of  recreation,  and  in 
which  reaction  of  wretchedness  modern  writers  have  discov- 
ered the  indulgence  of  a  native  humour.  Some  of  them  were 
drinking  deep,  wrangling,  jesting,  laughing  in  loud  discord 
over  their  cups.  At  another  table  rose  the  deep  voice  of  a 
singer,  chanting  one  of  those  antique  airs  known  but  to  these 
degraded  sons  of  the  Homeric  Achaean,  and  probably  in  its 
origin  going  beyond  the  date  of  the  Tale  of  Troy,  —  a  song  of 
gross  and  rustic  buffoonery,  but  ever  and  anon  charged  with 
some  image  or  thought  worthy  of  that  language  of  the  univer- 
sal Muses.  His  companions  listened  with  a  rude  delight  to 
the  rough  voice  and  homely  sounds,  and  now  and  then  inter- 


246  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

rupted  tlie  wassailers  at  the  other  tables  by  cries  for  silence, 
which  none  regarded.  Here  and  there,  with  intense  and 
fierce  anxiety  on  their  faces,  small  groups  were  playing  at 
dice;  for  gambling  is  the  passion  of  slaves.  And  many  of 
these  men,  to  whom  wealth  could  bring  no  comfort,  had 
secretly  amassed  large  hoards  at  the  plunder  of  Platsea,  from 
which  they  had  sold  to  the  traders  of  ^Egina  gold  at  the  price 
of  brass.  The  appearance  of  the  rioters  was  startling  and 
melancholy.  They  were  mostly  stunted  and  undersized,  as 
are  generally  the  progeny  of  the  sons  of  woe,  lean  and  gaunt 
with  early  hardship,  the  spine  of  the  back  curved  and  bowed 
by  habitual  degradation,  but  with  the  hardknit  sinews  and 
prominent  muscles  which  are  produced  by  labour  and  the 
mountain  air ;  and  under  shaggy  and  lowering  brows  sparkled 
many  a  fierce,  perfidious,  and  malignant  eye,  while  as  mirth 
or  gaming  or  song  aroused  smiles  in  the  various  groups,  the 
rude  features  spoke  of  passions  easily  released  from  the  sullen 
bondage  of  servitude,  and  revealed  the  nature  of  the  animals 
which  thraldom  had  failed  to  tame.  Here  and  there,  how- 
ever, were  to  be  seen  forms,  unlike  the  rest,  of  stately  stature, 
of  fair  proportions,  wearing  the  divine  lineaments  of  Grecian 
beauty.  From  some  of  these  a  higher  nature  spoke  out,  not 
in  mirth, — that  last  mockery  of  supreme  woe, — but  in  an 
expression  of  stern,  grave,  and  disdainful  melancholy.  Others, 
on  the  contrary,  surpassed  the  rest  in  vehemence,  clamour, 
and  exuberant  extravagance  of  emotion,  as  if  their  nobler 
physical  development  only  served  to  entitle  them  to  that  base 
superiority;  for  health  and  vigour  can  make  an  aristocracy 
even  among  Helots.  The  garments  of  these  merrymakers 
increased  the  peculiar  effect  of  their  general  appearance. 
The  Helots  in  military  excursions  naturally  relinquished  the 
rough  sheepskin  dress  that  characterized  their  countrymen  at 
home,  the  serfs  of  the  soil.  The  sailors  had  thrown  off,  for 
coolness,  the  leathern  jerkins  they  habitually  wore,  and,  with 
their  bare  arms  and  breasts,  looked  as  if  of  a  race  that  yet 
shivered,  primitive  and  unredeemed,  on  the  outskirts  of 
civilization. 

Strangely  contrasted  with  their  rougher  comrades,  were 


PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN.  247 

those  who,  placed  occasionally  about  the  person  of  tlie 
regent,  were  indulged  with  the  loose  and  clean  robes  of  gay 
colours  worn  by  the  Asiatic  slaves ;  and  these  ever  and  anon 
glanced  at  their  finery  with  an  air  of  conscious  triumph. 
Altogether,  it  was  a  sight  that  might  well  have  appalled,  by 
its  solemn  lessons  of  human  change,  the  poet  who  would  have 
beheld  in  that  imbruted  flock  the  descendants  of  the  race  over 
whom  Pelops  and  Atreus  and  Menelaus  and  Agamemnon  the 
king  of  men  had  held  their  antique  sway,  and  might  still  more 
have  saddened  the  philosopher  who  believed,  as  Menander  has 
nobly  written,  that  "Nature  knows  no  slaves." 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  the  confused  and  uproarious 
hubbub,  the  door  opened,  and  Alcman  the  Mothon  entered 
the  chamber.  At  this  sight  the  clamour  ceased  in  an  instant. 
The  party  rose,  as  by  a  general  impulse,  and  crowded  round 
the  new-comer. 

"My  friends,"  said  he,  regarding  them  with  the  same  calm 
and  frigid  indifference  which  usually  characterized  his  de- 
meanour, "you  do  well  to  make  merry  while  you  may,  for 
something  tells  me  it  will  not  last  long.  We  shall  return  to 
Lacedaemon.  You  look  black.  So,  then,  is  there  no  delight 
in  the  thought  of  home?" 

^'"Horne!^^  muttered  one  of  the  Helots;  and  the  word, 
sounding  drearily  on  his  lips,  was  echoed  by  many,  so  that 
it  circled  like  a  groan. 

"Yet  ye  have  your  children  as  much  as  if  ye  were  free," 
said  Alcman. 

"  And  for  that  reason  it  pains  us  to  see  them  play,  unaware 
of  the  future,"  said  a  Helot  of  better  mien  than  his  comrades. 

"But  do  you  know,"  returned  the  Mothon,  gazing  on  the 
last  speaker  steadily,  "that  for  your  children  there  may  not 
be  a  future  fairer  than  that  which  your  fathers  knew  ?  " 

"Tush!  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  unhappy  men,  old  before  his 
time,  and  of  an  aspect  singularly  sullen  and  ferocious.  "  Such 
have  been  your  half-hints  and  mystic  prophecies  for  years. 
What  good  comes  of  them?  Was  there  ever  an  oracle  for 
Helots?" 

"There  was  no  repute  in  the  oracles  even  of  Apollo," 


248  PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN. 

returned  Alcman,  "till  the  Apollo-serving  Dorians  became 
conquerors.     Oracles  are  the  children  of  victories." 

"  But  there  are  no  victories  for  us, '"  said  the  first  speaker, 
mournfully. 

"Kever,  if  ye  despair,"  said  the  Mothon,  loftily.  "What," 
he  added,  after  a  pause,  looking  round  at  the  crowd,  "  what, 
do  ye  not  see  that  hope  dawned  upon  us  from  the  hour  when 
thirty-five  thousand  of  us  were  admitted  as  soldiers,  ay,  and 
as  conquerors,  at  Plataea?  From  that  moment  we  knew  our 
strength.     Listen  to  me.     At  Samos  once  a  thousand  slaves 

—  mark  me,  but  a  thousand  —  escaped  the  yoke,  seized  on 
arms,  fled  to  the  mountains  (we  have  mountains  even  in 
Laconia),  descended  from  time  to  time  to  devastate  the  fields 
and  to  harass  their  ancient  lords.  By  habit  they  learned 
war,  by  desperation  they  grew  indomitable.  What  became 
of  these  slaves?  Were  they  cut  off?  Did  they  perish  by 
hunger,  by  the  sword,  in  the  dungeon  or  field?  No;  those 
brave  men  were  the  founders  of  Ephesus."  i 

"But  the  Samians  were  not  Spartans,"  mumbled  the  old 
Helot. 

"As  ye  will,  as  ye  will,"  said  Alcman,  relapsing  into  his 
usual  coldness.  "I  wish  you  never  to  strike  unless  ye  are 
prepared  to  die  or  conquer." 

"Some  of  us  are,"  said  the  younger  Helot. 

"Sacrifice  a  cock  to  the  Fates,  then." 

"But  why  think  you,"  asked  one  of  the  Helots,  "that  we 
shall  be  so  soon  summoned  back  to  Laconia?  " 

"Because  while  ye  are  drinking  and  idling  here,  drones  that 
ye  are,  there  is  commotion  in  the  Athenian  bee-hive  yon- 
der. Know  that  Ariamanes  the  Persian  and  Datis  the  Mede 
have  escaped.  The  allies,  especially  the  Athenians,  are  ex- 
cited and  angry;  and  many  of  them  are  already  come  in  a 
body  to  Pausanias,  whom  they  accuse  of  abetting  the  escape 
of  .the  fugitives." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  and  if  Pausanias  does  not  give  honey  in  his  words, 

—  and  few  flowers  grow  on  his  lips,  —  the  bees  will  sting,  that 

1  Malacos  apud  Athenseus,  6. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  249 

is  all.  A  trireme  will  be  despatched  to  Sparta  with  com- 
plaints. Pausanias  will  be  recalled,  —  perhaps  his  life 
endangered." 

"  Endangered ! "  echoed  several  voices. 

"Yes.  What  is  that  to  you,  — what  care  you  for  his  dan- 
ger?   He  is  a  Spartan." 

"Ay,"  cried  one,  "but  he  has  been  kind  to  the  Helots." 

"And  we  have  fought  by  his  side,"  said  another. 

"And  he  dressed  my  wound  with  his  own  hand,"  murmured 
a  third. 

"And  we  have  got  money  under  him,"  growled  a  fourth. 

"And  more  than  all,"  said  Alcman,  in  a  loud  voice,  "if  he 
lives,  he  will  break  down  the  Spartan  government.  Ye  will 
not  let  this  man  die?  " 

"  Never ! "  exclaimed  the  whole  assembly.  Alcman  gazed 
with  a  kind  of  calm  and  strange  contempt  on  the  flashing  eyes, 
the  fiery  gestures,  of  the  throng,  and  then  said,  coldly,  — 

"So,  then,  ye  would  fight  for  one  man?" 

"Ay,  ay,  that  would  we." 

"  But  not  for  your  own  liberties  and  those  of  your  children 
unborn?  " 

There  was  a  dead  silence;  but  the  taunt  was  felt,  and  its 
logic  was  already  at  work  in  many  of  these  rugged  breasts. 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  suddenly  thrown  open,  and  a 
Helot,  in  the  dress  worn  by  the  attendants  of  the  regent, 
entered,  breathless  and  panting. 

"Alcman!  the  gods  be  praised  you  are  here.  Pausanias 
commands  your  presence.  Lose  not  a  moment.  And  you 
too,  comrades,  by  Demeter,  do  you  mean  to  spend  whole  days 
at  your  cups?    Come  to  the  citadel;  ye  may  be  wanted." 

This  was  spoken  to  such  of  the  Helots  as  belonged  to  the 
train  of  Pausanias. 

"Wanted, — what  for?"  said  one.  "Pausanias  gives  us  a 
holiday  while  he  employs  the  sleek  Egyptians." 

"Who  that  serves  Pausanias  ever  asks  that  question,  or 
can  foresee  from  one  hour  to  another  what  he  may  be  required 
to  do?"  returned  the  self-important  messenger,  with  great 
contempt. 


250  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

Meanwhile  the  Mothon,  all  whose  movements  were  pecul- 
iarly silent  and  rapid,  was  already  on  his  way  to  the  citadel. 
The  distance  was  not  inconsiderable,  but  Alcman  was  swift 
of  foot.  Tightening  the  girdle  round  his  waist,  he  swung 
himself,  as  it  were,  into  a  kind  of  run,  which,  though  not 
seemingly  rapid,  cleared  the  ground  with  a  speed  almost 
rivalling  that  of  the  ostrich,  from  the  length  of  the  stride 
and  the  extreme  regularity  of  the  pace.  Such  was  at  that 
day  the  method  by  which  messages  were  despatched  from 
State  to  State,  especially  in  mountainous  countries;  and  the 
length  of  way  which  was  performed,  without  stopping,  by 
the  foot-couriers  might  startle  the  best-trained  pedestrians 
in  our  times.  So  swiftly,  indeed,  did  the  Mothon  pursue  his 
course  that  just  by  the  citadel  he  came  up  with  the  Grecian 
captains  who,  before  he  joined  the  Helots,  had  set  off  for 
their  audience  with  Pausanias.  There  were  some  fourteen 
or  fifteen  of  them,  and  they  so  filled  up  the  path,  which,  just 
there,  was  not  broad,  that  Alcman  was  obliged  to  pause  as  he 
came  upon  their  rear. 

"And  whither  so  fast,  fellow?"  said  Uliades  the  Samian, 
turning  round  as  he  heard  the  strides  of  the  Mothon. 

"Please  you,  master,  I  am  bound  to  the  general." 

"Oh,  his  slave!     Is  he  going  to  free  you?" 

"I  am  already  as  free  as  a  man  who  has  no  city  can  be." 

"Pithy.  The  Spartan  slaves  have  the  dryness  of  their 
masters.  How,  sirrah!  do  you  jostle  me?" 

"I  crave  pardon.     I  only  seek  to  pass." 

"Never!  to  take  precedence  of  a  Samian.     Keep  back." 

"I  dare  not." 

"Nay,  nay,  let  him  pass,"  said  the  young  Chian,  Antagoras; 
"he  will  get  scourged  if  he  is  too  late.  Perhaps,  like  the 
Persians,  Pausanias  wears  false  hair,  and  wishes  the  slave 
to  dress  it  in  honour  of  us." 

"  Hush !  "  whispered  an  Athenian.  "  Are  these  taunts 
prudent?" 

Here  there  suddenly  broke  forth  a  loud  oath  from  Uliades, 
who,  lingering  a  little  behind  the  rest,  had  laid  rough  hands 
on  the  Mothon,  as  the  latter  once  more  attempted  to  pass  him. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  251 

With  a  dexterous  and  abrupt  agility,  Alcman  had  extricated 
himself  from  the  Samian's  grasp,  but  with  a  force  that  swung 
the  captain  on  his  knee.  Taking  advantage  of  the  position  of 
the  foe,  the  Mothon  darted  onward,  and  threading  the  rest 
of  the  party,  disappeared  through  the  neighbouring  gates  of 
the  citadel. 

"You  saw  the  insult?  "  said  Uliades  between  his  ground  teeth 
as  he  recovered  himself.  "The  master  shall  answer  for  the 
slave;  and  to  me,  too,  who  have  forty  slaves  of  my  own  at 
home ! " 

"Pooh!  think  no  more  of  it,"  said  Antagoras,  gayly;  "the 
poor  fellow  meant  only  to  save  his  own  hide." 

"As  if  that  were  of  any  consequence!  My  slaves  are 
brought  up  from  the  cradle  not  to  know  if  they  have  hides 
or  not.  You  may  pinch  them  by  the  hour  together,  and  they 
don't  feel  you.  My  little  ones  do  it,  in  rainy  weather,  to 
strengthen  their  fingers.     The  Gods  keep  them!  " 

"An  excellent  gymnastic  invention.  But  we  are  now 
within  the  citadel.  Courage!  the  Spartan  greyhound  has 
long  teeth." 

Pausanias  was  striding  with  hasty  steps  up  and  down  a 
long  and  narrow  peristyle,  or  colonnade,  that  surrounded  the 
apartments  appropriated  to  his  private  use,  when  Alcman 
joined  him. 

"Well,  well,"  cried  he,  eagerly,  as  he  saw  the  Mothon. 
"  You  have  mingled  with  the  common  gangs  of  these  worship- 
ful seamen,  these  new  men,  these  lonians :  think  you  they  have 
so  far  overcome  their  awe  of  the  Spartan  that  they  would  obey 
the  mutinous  commands  of  their  officers?" 

"  Pausanias,  the  truth  must  be  spoken,  —  Yes ! " 

"  Ye  Gods !  one  would  think  each  of  these  wranglers  ima- 
gined he  had  a  whole  Persian  army  in  his  boat.  Why,  I  have 
seen  the  day  when,  if  in  any  assembly  of  Greeks  a  Spartan 
entered,  the  sight  of  his  very  hat  and  walking-staff  cast  a 
terror  through  the  whole  conclave." 

"True,  Pausanias;  but  they  suspect  that  Sparta  herself  will 
disown  her  general." 

"Ah!  say  they  so?" 


252  PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN. 

"With  one  voice. ^' 

Pausanias  paused  a  moment  in  deep  and  perturbed  thought. 

"Have  they  dared  yet,  think  you,  to  send  to  Sparta?^' 

"I  hear  not;  but  a  trireme  is  in  readiness  to  sail  after  your 
conference  with  the  captains." 

"So,  Alcman,  it  were  ruin  to  my  schemes  to  be  recalled 
until  —  until  —  " 

"The  hour  to  join  the  Persians  on  the  frontier;  yes." 

"One  word  more.  Have  you  had  occasion  to  sound  the 
Helots?" 

"  But  half  an  hour  since.  They  will  be  true  to  you.  Lift 
your  right  hand,  and  the  ground  where  you  stand  will  bristle 
with  men  who  fear  death  even  less  than  the  Spartans." 

"Their  aid  were  useless  here  against  the  whole  Grecian 
fleet;  but  in  the  defiles  of  Laconia,  otherwise.  I  am  pre- 
pared then  for  the  worst,  — even  recall." 

Here  a  slave  crossed  from  a  kind  of  passage  that  led  from 
the  outer  chambers  into  the  peristyle. 

"The  Grecian  captains  have  arrived  to  demand  audience." 

"  Bid  them  wait, "  cried  Pausanias,  passionately. 

"Hist!  Pausanias,"  whispered  the  Mothon.  "Is  it  not 
best  to  soothe  them,  to  play  with  them,  to  cover  the  lion 
with  the  fox's  hide?" 

The  regent  turned  with  a  frown  to  his  foster-brother,  as  if 
surprised  and  irritated  by  his  presumption  in  advising;  and 
indeed  of  late,  since  Pausanias  had  admitted  the  son  of  the 
Helot  into  his  guilty  intrigues,  Alcman  had  assumed  a  bear- 
ing and  tone  of  equality  which  Pausanias,  wrapped  in  his 
dark  schemes,  did  not  always  notice,  but  at  which  from  time 
to  time  he  chafed  angrily,  yet  again  permitted  it,  and  the 
custom  gained  ground,  —  for  in  guilt  conventional  distinc- 
tions rapidly  vanish,  and  mind  speaks  freely  out  to  mind. 
The  presence  of  the  slave,  however,  restrained  him,  and  after 
a  momentary  silence  his  natural  acuteness,  great  when  undis- 
turbed by  passion  or  pride,  made  him  sensible  of  the  wisdom 
of  Alcman's  counsel. 

"Hold!  "  he  said  to  the  slave.  "Announce  to  the  Grecian 
chiefs  that  Pausanias  will  await  them  forthwith.     Begone. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  253 

Now,  Alcman,  I  will  talk  over  these  gentle  monitors;  not  in 
vain  have  I  been  educated  in  Sparta.  Yet  if  by  chance  I  fail, 
hold  thyself  ready  to  haste  to  Sparta  at  a  minute's  warning. 
I  must  forestall  the  foe.  I  have  gold,  gold;  and  he  who  em- 
ploys most  of  the  yellow  orators,  will  prevail  most  with  the 
ephors.  Give  me  my  staff,  and  tarry  in  yon  chamber  to 
the  left." 


CHAPTER  II. 

In  a  large  hall,  with  a  marble  fountain  in  the  middle  of  it, 
the  Greek  captains  awaited  the  coming  of  Pausanias.  A  low 
and  muttered  conversation  was  carried  on  amongst  them,  in 
small  knots  and  groups,  amidst  which  the  voice  of  Uliades 
was  heard  the  loudest.  Suddenly  the  hum  was  hushed,  for 
footsteps  were  heard  without.  The  thick  curtains  that  at  one 
extreme  screened  the  door-way  were  drawn  aside,  and  attended 
by  three  of  the  Spartan  knights,  amongst  whom  was  Lysander, 
and  by  two  soothsayers,  who  were  seldom  absent,  in  war  or 
warlike  council,  from  the  side  of  the  Royal  Heracleid,  Pau- 
sanias slowly  entered  the  hall.  So  majestic,  grave,  and  self- 
collected  were  the  bearing  and  aspect  of  the  Spartan  general 
that  the  hereditary  awe  inspired  by  his  race  was  once  more 
awakened,  and  the  angry  crowd  saluted  him,  silent  and  half- 
abashed.  Although  the  strong  passions  and  the  daring  arro- 
gance of  Pausanias  did  not  allow  him  the  exercise  of  that 
enduring,  systematic,  unsleeping  hypocrisy  which,  in  relations 
with  the  foreigner,  often  characterized  his  countrymen,  and 
which,  from  its  outward  dignity  and  profound  craft,  exalted 
the  vice  into  genius ;  yet,  trained  from  earliest  childhood  in 
the  arts  that  hide  design,  that  control  the  countenance,  and 
convey  in  the  fewest  words  the  most  ambiguous  meanings, 
the  Spartan  general  could,  for  a  brief  period,  or  for  a  critical 
purpose,  command  all  the  wiles  for  which  the  Greek  was 
nationally  famous,  and  in  which  Thucydides  believed  that, 
of  all  Greeks,  the  Spartan  was  the  most  skilful  adept.     And 


254  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

now,  as,  uniting  the  courtesy  of  the  host  with  the  dignity  of 
the  chief,  be  returned  the  salute  of  the  officers,  and  smiled 
his  gracious  welcome,  the  unwonted  affability  of  his  manner 
took  the  discontented  by  surprise,  and  half  propitiated  the 
most  indignant  in  his  favour. 

"I  need  not  ask  you,  0  Greeks,"  said  he,  "why  ye  have 
sought  me.  Ye  have  learned  the  escape  of  Ariamanes  and 
Datis,  — a  strange  and  unaccountable  mischance." 

The  captains  looked  round  at  each  other  in  silence,  till  at 
last  every  eye  rested  upon  Cimon,  whose  illustrious  birth,  as 
well  as  his  known  respect  for  Sparta,  combined  with  his 
equally  well-known  dislike  of  her  chief,  seemed  to  mark  him, 
despite  his  youth,  as  the  fittest  person  to  be  speaker  for  the 
rest.  Cimon,  who  understood  the  mute  appeal,  and  whose 
courage  never  failed  his  ambition,  raised  his  head,  and  after 
a  moment's  hesitation  replied  to  the  Spartan,  — [ 

"  Pausanias,  you  guess  rightly  the  cause  which  leads  us  to 
your  presence.  These  prisoners  were  our  noblest;  their  cap- 
ture the  reward  of  our  common  valour.  They  were  generals, 
moreover,  of  high  skill  and  repute ;  they  had  become  experi- 
enced in  our  Grecian  warfare,  even  by  their  defeats.  Those 
two  men,  should  Xerxes  again  invade  Greece,  are  worth  more 
to  his  service  than  half  the  nations  whose  myriads  crossed  the 
Hellespont.  But  this  is  not  all.  The  arms  of  the  Barbarians 
we  can  encounter  undismayed;  it  is  treason  at  home  which 
can  alone  appall  us." 

There  was  a  low  murmur  among  the  lonians  at  these  words. 
Pausanias,  with  well-dissembled  surprise  on  his  countenance, 
turned  his  eyes  from  Cimon  to  the  murmurers,  and  from  them 
again  to  Cimon,  and  repeated,  — 

"Treason,  son  of  Miltiades?  and  from  whom?" 

"  Such  is  the  question  that  we  would  put  to  thee,  Pausanias, 
—  to  thee,  whose  eyes,  as  leader  of  our  armies,  are  doubtless 
vigilant  daily  and  nightly  over  the  interests  of  Greece." 

"I  am  not  blind,"  returned  Pausanias,  appearing  uncon- 
scious of  the  irony,  "but  I  am  not  Argus.  If  thou  hast  dis- 
covered aught  that  is  hidden  from  me,  speak  boldly." 

"Thou   hast   made  Gongylus,   the  Eretrian,    governor  of 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  255 

Byzantium;  for  what  great  services  we  know  not.     But  he 
has  lived  much  in  Persia." 

"For  that  reason,  on  this  the  frontier  of  her  domains,  he 
is  better  enabled  to  penetrate  her  designs  and  counteract  her 
ambition." 

"This  Gongylus,"  continued  Cimon,  "is  well  known  to  have 
much  frequented  the  Persian  captives  in  their  confinement." 

"  In  order  to  learn  from  them  what  may  yet  be  the  strength 
of  the  king.     In  this  he  had  my  commands." 

"I  question  it  not.  But,  Pausanias,"  continued  Cimon, 
raising  his  voice,  and  with  energy,  "had  he  also  thy  com- 
mands to  leave  thy  galley  last  night  and  to  return  to  the 
citadel?" 

"He  had.     What  then?" 

"And  on  his  return  the  Persians  disappear, —a  singular 
chance,  truly.  But  that  is  not  all.  Last  night,  before  he 
returned  to  the  citadel,  Gongylus  was  perceived  alone  in  a 
retired  spot  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city." 

"Alone?"  echoed  Pausanias. 

"  Alone.  If  he  had  companions,  they  were  not  discerned. 
This  spot  was  out  of  the  path  he  should  have  taken.  By  this 
spot,  on  the  soft  soil,  are  the  marks  of  hoofs,  and  in  the 
thicket  close  by  were  found  these  witnesses,"  and  Cimon  drew 
from  his  vest  a  handful  of  the  pearls  only  worn  by  the  East- 
ern captives. 

"There  is  something  in  this,"  said  Xanthippus,  "which 
requires  at  least  examination.  May  it  please  you,  Pausanias, 
to  summon  Gongylus  hither?  " 

A  momentary  shade  passed  over  the  brow  of  the  conspira- 
tor; but  the  eyes  of  the  Greeks  were  on  him,  and  to  refuse 
were  as  dangerous  as  to  comply.  He  turned  to  one  of  his 
Spartans,  and  ordered  him  to  summon  the  Eretrian. 

"  You  have  spoken  well,  Xanthippus.  This  matter  must  be 
sifted." 

With  that,  motioning  the  captains  to  the  seats  that  were 
ranged  round  the  walls  and  before  a  long  table,  he  cast  him- 
self into  a  large  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  waited  in 
silent  anxiety  the  entrance  of  the  Eretrian.     His  whole  trust 


256  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

now  was  in  the  craft  and  penetration  of  his  friend.  If  the 
courage  or  the  cunning  of  Gongylus  failed  him ;  if  but  a  word 
betrayed  him,  —  Pausanias  was  lost.  He  was  girt  by  men 
who  hated  him;  and  he  read  in  the  dark,  fierce  eyes  of  the 
lonians  —  whose  pride  he  had  so  often  galled,  whose  revenge 
he  had  so  carelessly  provoked  —  the  certainty  of  ruin.  One 
hand,  hidden  within  the  folds  of  his  robe,  convulsively 
clinched  the  flesh,  in  the  stern  agony  of  his  suspense.  His 
calm  and  composed  face  nevertheless  exhibited  to  the  captains 
no  trace  of  fear. 

The  draperies  were  again  drawn  aside,  and  Gongylus  slowly 
entered. 

Habituated  to  peril  of  every  kind  from  his  earliest  youth, 
the  Eretrian  was  quick  to  detect  its  presence.  The  sight  of 
the  silent  Greeks,  formally  seated  round  the  hall,  and  watch- 
ing his  steps  and  countenance  with  eyes  whose  jealous  and 
vindictive  meaning  it  required  no  OEdipus  to  read,  the  grave 
and  half-averted  brow  of  Pausanias,  and  the  angry  excitement 
that  had  prevailed  amidst  the  host  at  the  news  of  the  escape 
of  the  Persians,  — all  sufficed  to  apprise  him  of  the  nature  of 
the  council  to  which  he  had  been  summoned. 

Supporting  himself  on  his  staff,  and  dragging  his  limbs 
tardily  along,  he  had  leisure  to  examine,  though  with  appar- 
ent indifference,  the  whole  group;  and  when,  with  a  calm 
salutation,  he  arrested  his  steps  at  the  foot  of  the  table  imme- 
diately facing  Pausanias,  he  darted  one  glance  at  the  Spartan 
so  fearless,  so  bright,  so  cheering  that  Pausanias  breathed 
hard,  as  if  a  load  were  thrown  from  his  breast,  and  turning 
easily  towards  Cimon,  said,  — 

"Behold  your  witness.  Which  of  us  shall  be  questioner, 
and  which  judge?" 

"That  matters  but  little,"  returned  Cimon.  "Before  this 
audience  justice  must  force  its  way." 

"It  rests  with  you,  Pausanias,"  said  Xanthippus,  "to 
acquaint  the  governor  of  Byzantium  with  the  suspicions  he 
has  excited." 

"Gongylus,"  said  Pausanias,  "the  captive  Barbarians, 
Ariamanes  and  Datis,  were  placed  by  me  especially  under 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  257 

thy  vigilance  and  guard.  Thou'  knowest  that  while  (for 
humanity  becomes  the  victor)  I  ordered  thee  to  vex  them 
by  no  undue  restraints,  I  nevertheless  commanded  thee  to 
consider  thy  life  itself  answerable  for  their  durance.  They 
have  escaped.  The  captains  of  Greece  demand  of  thee,  as  I 
demanded,  by  what  means,  by  what  connivance?  Speak  the 
truth,  and  deem  that  in  falsehood,  as  well  as  in  treachery, 
detection  is  easy,  and  death  certain." 

The  tone  of  Pausanias  and  his  severe  look  pleased  and 
reassured  all  the  Greeks,  except  the  wiser  Cimon,  who,  though 
his  suspicions  were  a  little  shaken,  continued  to  fix  his  eyes 
rather  on  Pausanias  than  on  the  Eretrian. 

"Pausanias,"  replied  Gongylus,  drawing  up  his  lean  frame, 
as  with  the  dignity  of  conscious  innocence,  "that  suspicion 
could  fall  upon  me,  I  find  it  difficult  to  suppose.  Kaised 
by  thy  favour  to  the  command  of  Byzantium,  what  have 
I  to  gain  by  treason  or  neglect?  These  Persians,  I  knew 
them  well.  I  had  known  them  in  Susa,  —  known  them 
when  I  served  Darius,  being  then  an  exile  from  Eretria. 
Ye  know,  my  countrymen,  that  when  Darius  invaded  Greece, 
I  left  his  court  and  armies,  and  sought  my  native  land,  to  fall 
or  to  conquer  in  its  cause.  Well,  then,  I  knew  these  Barba- 
rians. I  sought  them  frequently,  —  partly,  it  may  be,  to 
return  to  them  in  their  adversity  the  courtesies  shown  me 
in  mine:  ye  are  Greeks,  — ye  will  not  condemn  me  for 
humanity  and  gratitude;  partly  with  another  motive:  I 
knew  that  Ariamanes  had  the  greatest  influence  over  Xerxes ; 
I  knew  that  the  Great  King  would  at  any  cost  seek  to  regain 
the  liberty  of  his  friend.  I  urged  upon  Ariamanes  the  wis- 
dom of  a  peace  with  the  Greeks  even  on  their  own  terms ;  I 
told  him  that  when  Xerxes  sent  to  offer  the  ransom,  condi- 
tions of  peace  would  avail  more  than  sacks  of  gold.  He  lis- 
tened and  approved.  Did  I  wrong  in  this,  Pausanias?  No; 
for  thou,  whose  deep  sagacity  has  made  thee  condescend  even 
to  appear  half  Persian,  because  thou  art  all  Greek,  —  thou 
thyself  didst  sanction  my  efforts  on  behalf  of  Greece." 

Pausanias  looked  with  a  silent  triumph  round  the  conclave, 
and  Xanthippus  nodded  approval. 


258  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

"  In  order  to  conciliate  them,  and  witli  too  great  confidence 
in  their  faith,  I  relaxed  by  degrees  the  rigour  of  their  con- 
finement. That  was  a  fault;  I  own  it.  Their  apartments 
communicated  with  a  court  in  which  I  suffered  them  to  walk 
at  will.  But  I  placed  there  two  sentinels  in  whom  I  deemed 
I  could  repose  all  trust,  —  not  my  own  countrymen,  not  Ere- 
trians;  not  thy  Spartans  or  Laconians,  Pausanias.  No;  I 
deemed  that  if  ever  the  jealousy  (a  laudable  jealousy)  of 
the  Greeks  should  demand  an  account  of  my  faith  and  vigil- 
ance, my  witnesses  should  be  the  countrymen  of  those  who 
have  ever  the  most  suspected  me.  Those  sentinels  were,  the 
one  a  Samian,  the  other  a  Platsean.  These  men  have  betrayed 
me  and  Greece.  Last  night,  on  returning  hither  from  the 
vessel,  I  visited  the  Persians.  They  were  about  to  retire  to 
rest,  and  I  quitted  them  soon,  suspecting  nothing.  This 
morning  they  had  fled,  and  with  them  their  abetters,  the 
sentinels.  I  hastened,  first,  to  send  soldiers  in  search  of 
them,  and,  secondly,  to  inform  Pausanias  in  his  galley.  If 
I  have  erred,  I  submit  me  to  your  punishment.  Punish  my 
error,  but  acquit  my  honesty." 

"And  what,"  said  Cimon,  abruptly,  "led  thee  far  from  thy 
path,  between  the  Heracleid's  galley  and  the  citadel,  to  the 
fields  near  the  temple  of  Aphrodite,  between  the  citadel  and 
the  bay?  Thy  colour  changes.  Mark  him,  Greeks !  Quick; 
thine  answer ! " 

The  countenance  of  Gongylus  had,  indeed,  lost  its  colour 
and  hardihood.  The  loud  tone  of  Cimon,  the  effect  his  con- 
fusion produced  on  the  Greeks,  some  of  whom,  the  lonians, 
less  self-possessed  and  dignified  than  the  rest,  half  rose,  with 
fierce  gestures  and  muttered  exclamations,  —  served  still  more 
to  embarrass  and  intimidate  him.  He  cast  a  hasty  look  on 
Pausanias,  who  averted  his  eyes.  There  was  a  pause.  The 
Spartan  gave  himself  up  for  lost;  but  how  much  more  was 
his  fear  increased  when  Gongylus,  casting  an  imploring  gaze 
upon  the  Greeks,  said  hesitatingly,  — 

"Question  me  no  further;  I  dare  not  speak;"  and  as  he 
spoke,  he  pointed  to  Pausanias. 

"It  was  the  dread  of  thy  resentment,  Pausanias,"  said 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  259 

Cimon,  coldly,  "that  withheld  his  confession.  Vouchsafe 
to  reassure  him." 

"Eretrian,"  said  Pausanias,  striking  his  clenched  hand  on 
the  table,  "  I  know  not  what  tale  trembles  on  thy  lips ;  but 
be  it  what  it  may,  give  it  voice,  I  command  thee." 

"Thou  thyself,  thou  wert  the  cause  that  led  me  towards 
the  temple  of  Aphrodite,"  said  Gongylus,  in  a  low  voice. 

At  these  words  there  went  forth  a  general  deep-breathed 
murmur.  With  one  accord  every  Greek  rose  to  his  feet.  The 
Spartan  attendants  in  the  rear  of  Pausanias  drew  closer  to  his 
person ;  but  there  was  nothing  in  their  faces  —  yet  more  dark 
and  vindictive  than  those  of  the  other  Greeks  —  that  promised 
protection.  Pausanias  alone  remained  seated  and  unmoved. 
His  imminent  danger  gave  him  back  all  his  valour,  all  his 
pride,  all  his  passionate  and  profound  disdain.  With  un- 
bleached cheek,  with  haughty  eyes,  he  met  the  gaze  of  the 
assembly;  and  then,  waving  his  hand  as  if  that  gesture  suf- 
ficed to  restrain  and  awe  them,  he  said,  — 

"  In  the  name  of  all  Greece,  whose  chief  I  yet  am,  whose 
protector  I  have  once  been,  I  command  you  to  resume  your 
seats  and  listen  to  the  Eretrian.  Spartans,  fall  back.  Gov- 
ernor of  Byzantium,  pursue  your  tale." 

"Yes,  Pausanias,"  resumed  Gongylus,  "you  alone  were  the 
cause  that  drew  me  from  my  rest.  I  would  fain  be  silent, 
but  —  " 

"Say  on,"  cried  Pausanias,  fiercely,  and  measuring  the 
space  between  himself  and  Gongylus,  in  doubt  whether  the 
Eretrian's  head  were  within  reach  of  his  cimeter,  —  so,  at 
least,  Gongylus  interpreted  that  freezing  look  of  despair  and 
vengeance,  and  he  drew  back  some  paces.  "  I  place  myself, 
0  Greeks,  under  your  protection ;  it  is  dangerous  to  reveal  the 
errors  of  the  great.  Know  that,  as  governor  of  Byzantium, 
many  things  ye  wot  not  of  reach  my  ears.  Hence,  I  guard 
against  dangers  while  ye  sleep.  Learn,  then,  that  Pausanias 
is  not  without  the  weakness  of  his  ancestor,  Alcides,  —  he 
loves  a  maiden,  a  Byzantine,  Cleonice,  the  daughter  of 
Diagoras." 

This  unexpected  announcement,  made  in  so  grave  a  tone, 


260  PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN. 

provoked  a  smile  amongst  the  gay  lonians;  but  an  exclama- 
tion of  jealous  anger  broke  from  Antagoras,  and  a  blush, 
partly  of  wounded  pride,  partly  of  warlike  shame,  crimsoned 
the  swarthy  cheek  of  Pausanias.  Cimon,  who  was  by  no 
means  free  from  the  joyous  infirmities  of  youth,  relaxed  his 
severe  brow,  and  said,  after  a  short  pause, — 

"Is  it,  then,  among  the  grave  duties  of  the  governor  of 
Byzantium  to  watch  over  the  fair  Cleonice,  or  to  aid  the  suit 
of  her  illustrious  lover?  " 

"Not  so,"  answered  Gongylus;  "but  the  life  of  the  Grecian 
general  is  dear  at  least  to  the  grateful  governor  of  Byzantium. 
Greeks,  ye  know  that  amongst  you  Pausanias  has  many  foes. 
Returning  last  night  from  his  presence,  and  passing  through 
the  thicket,  I  overheard  voices  at  hand.  I  caught  the  name 
of  Pausanias.  *  The  Spartan,'  said  one  voice,  *  nightly  visits 
the  house  of  Diagoras.  He  goes  usually  alone.  From  the 
height  near  the  temple  we  can  watch  well,  for  the  night  is 
clear;  if  he  goes  alone,  we  can  intercept  his  way  on  his 
return.'  *  To  the  height!'  cried  the  other.  I  thought  to 
distinguish  the  voices,  but  the  trees  hid  the  speakers.  I  fol- 
lowed the  footsteps  towards  the  temple,  for  it  behooved  me  to 
learn  who  thus  menaced  the  chief  of  Greece.  But  ye  know 
that  the  wood  reaches  even  to  the  sacred  building,  and  the 
steps  gained  the  temple  before  I  could  recognize  the  men.  I 
concealed  myself,  as  I  thought,  to  watch;  but  it  seems  that 
I  was  perceived,  for  he  who  saw  me,  and  now  accuses,  was 
doubtless  one  of  the  assassins.  Happy  I,  if  the  sight  of  a 
witness  scared  him  from  the  crime.  Either  fearing  detection, 
or  aware  that  their  intent  that  night  was  frustrated,  —  for 
Pausanias,  visiting  Cleonice  earlier  than  his  wont,  had  already 
resought  his  galley,  — the  men  retreated  as  they  came,  unseen, 
not  unheard.  I  caught  their  receding  steps  through  the 
brushwood.  Greeks,  I  have  said.  Who  is  my  accuser?  In 
him  behold  the  would-be  murderer  of  Pausanias ! " 

"  Liar ! "  cried  an  indignant  and  loud  voice  amongst  the 
captains;   and  Antagoras  stood  forth  from  the  circle. 

"It  is  I  who  saw  thee.  Darest  thou  accuse  Antagoras  of 
Chios?" 


PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN.  261 

"What  at  that  hour  brought  Antagoras  of  Chios  to  the 
temple  of  Aphrodite?"  retorted  Gongylus. 

The  eyes  of  the  Greeks  turned  towards  the  young  captain, 
and  there  was  confusion  on  his  face.  But  recovering  himself 
quickly,  the  Chian  answered:  "Why  should  I  blush  to  own 
it?  Aphrodite  is  no  dishonourable  deity  to  the  men  of  the 
Ionian  isles.  I  sought  the  temple  at  that  hour,  as  is  our 
wont,  to  make  my  offering  and  record  my  prayer." 

"  Certainly, "  said  Cimon.  "  We  must  own  that  Aphrodite 
is  powerful  at  Byzantium.  Who  can  acquit  Pausanias  and 
blame  Antagoras?" 

"Pardon  me,  one  question,"  said  Gongylus.  "Is  not  the 
female  heart  which  Antagoras  would  beseech  the  goddess  to 
soften  towards  him  that  of  the  Cleonice  of  whom  we  spoke? 
See,  he  denies  it  not.  Greeks,  the  Chians  are  warm  lovers, 
and  warm  lovers  are  revengeful  rivals." 

This  artful  speech  had  its  instantaneous  effect  amongst  the 
younger  and  more  unthinking  loiterers.  Those  who  at  once 
would  have  disbelieved  the  imputed  guilt  of  Antagoras  upon 
motives  merely  political,  inclinsd  to  a  suggestion  that  ascribed 
it  to  the  jealousy  of  a  lover.  And  his  character,  ardent  and 
fiery,  rendered  the  suspicion  yet  more  plausible.  Meanwhile 
the  minds  of  the  audience  had  been  craftily  drawn  from  the 
grave  and  main  object  of  the  meeting,  —  the  flight  of  the  Per- 
sians, —  and  a  lighter  and  livelier  curiosity  had  supplanted 
the  eager  and  dark  resentment  which  had  hitherto  animated 
the  circle.  Pausanias,  with  the  subtle  genius  that  belonged 
to  him,  hastened  to  seize  advantage  of  this  momentary  diver- 
sion in  his  favour,  and  before  the  Chian  could  recover  his 
consternation,  both  at  the  charge  and  the  evident  effect  it  had 
produced  upon  a  part  of  the  assembly,  the  Spartan  stretched 
his  hand  and  spake. 

"  Greeks,  Pausanias  listens  to  no  tale  of  danger  to  himself. 
Willingly  he  believes  that  Gongylus  either  misinterpreted  the 
intent  of  some  jealous  and  heated  threats,  or  that  the  words 
he  overheard  were  not  uttered  by  Antagoras.  Possible  is  it, 
too,  that  others  may  have  sought  the  temple  with  less  gentle 
desires  than  our  Chian  ally.     Let  this  pass.     Unworthy  such 


262  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

matters  of  the  coancils  of  bearded  men;  too  much  reference 
has  been  made  to  those  follies  which  our  idleness  has  given 
birth  to.  Let  no  fair  Briseis  renew  strife  amongst  chiefs  and 
soldiers.  Excuse  not  thyself,  Antagoras;  we  dismiss  all 
charge  against  thee.  On  the  other  hand,  Gongylus  will 
doubtless  seem  to  you  to  have  accounted  for  his  appearance 
near  the  precincts  of  the  temple.  And  it  is  but  a  coincidence, 
natural  enough,  that  the  Persian  prisoners  should  have  chosen, 
later  in  the  night,  the  same  spot  for  the  steeds  to  await  them. 
The  thickness  of  the  wood  round  the  temple,  and  the  direc- 
tion of  the  place  towards  the  east,  points  out  the  neighbour- 
hood as  the  very  one  in  which  the  fugitives  would  appoint  the 
horses.  Waste  no  further  time,  but  provide  at  once  for  the 
pursuit.  To  you,  Cimon,  be  this  care  confided.  Already 
have  I  despatched  fifty  light-armed  men  on  fleet  Thessalian 
steeds.  You,  Cimon,  increase  the  number  of  the  pursuers. 
The  prisoners  may  be  yet  recaptured.  Doth  aught  else  re- 
main worthy  of  our  ears?     If  so,  speak;  if  not,  depart.'* 

"  Pausanias, "  said  Antagoras,  firmly,  "  let  Gongylus  retract, 
or  not,  his  charge  against  me,  I  retain  mine  against  Gongylus. 
Wholly  false  is  it  that  in  word  or  deed  I  plotted  violence 
against  thee,  though  of  much  — not  as  Cleonice's  lover,  but 
as  Grecian  captain  —  I  have  good  reason  to  complain.  Wholly 
false  is  it  that  I  had  a  comrade.  I  was  alone.  And  coming 
out  from  the  temple,  where  I  had  hung  my  chaplet,  I  per- 
ceived Gongylus  clearly  under  the  starlit  skies.  He  stood  in 
listening  attitude  close  by  the  sacred  myrtle-grove.  I  has- 
tened towards  him,  but  methinks  he  saw  me  not;  he  turned 
slowly,  penetrated  the  wood,  and  vanished.  I  gained  the 
spot  on  the  soft  sward  which  the  dripping  boughs  make 
ever  humid.  I  saw  the  print  of  hoofs.  Within  the  thicket 
I  found  the  pearls  that  Cimon  has  displayed  to  you.  Clear, 
then,  is  it  that  this  man  lies;  clear  that  the  Persians  must 
have  fled  already,  —  although  Gongylus  declares  that  on  his 
return  to  the  citadel  he  visited  them  in  their  prison.  Explain 
this,  Eretrian!" 

"He  who  would  speak  false  witness,"  answered  Gongylus, 
with  a  firmness  equal  to  the  Chian's,  "  can  find  pearls  at  what- 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  263 

soever  hour  lie  pleases.  Greeks,  this  man  presses  me  to  re- 
new the  charge  which  Pausanias  generously  sought  to  stifle. 
I  have  said.  And  I,  governor  of  Byzantium,  call  on  the 
Council  of  the  Grecian  leaders  to  maintain  my  authority,  and 
protect  their  own  chief."  i  . 

Then  arose  a  vexed  and  perturbed  murmur,  most  of  the 
lonians  siding  with  Antagoras ;  such  of  the  allies  as  yet  clung 
to  the  Dorian  ascendancy  grouping  round  Gongylus. 

The  persistence  of  Antagoras  had  made  the  dilemma  of  no 
slight  embarrassment  to  Pausanias.  Something  lofty  in  his 
original  nature  urged  him  to  shrink  from  supporting  Gongylus 
in  an  accusation  which  he  believed  untrue.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  could  not  abandon  his  accomplice  in  an  effort,  as 
dangerous  as  it  was  crafty,  to  conceal  their  common  guilt. 

"Son  of  Miltiades,"  he  said  after  a  brief  pause,  in  which 
his  dexterous  resolution  was  formed,  "  I  invoke  your  aid  to 
appease  a  contest  in  which  I  foresee  no  result  but  that  of 
schism  amongst  ourselves.  Antagoras  has  no  witness  to  sup- 
port his  tale,  Gongylus  none  to  support  his  own.  Who  shall 
decide  between  conflicting  testimonies  which  rest  but  on  the 
lips  of  accuser  and  accused?  Hereafter,  if  the  matter  be 
deemed  sufficiently  grave,  let  us  refer  the  decision  to  the 
oracle  that  never  errs.  Time  and  chance  meanwhile  may 
favour  us  in  clearing  up  the  darkness  we  cannot  now  pene- 
trate. For  you,  governor  of  Byzantium,  it  behooves  me  to 
say  that  the  escape  of  prisoners  intrusted  to  your  charge  justi- 
fies vigilance,  if  not  suspicion.  We  shall  consult  at  our  leis- 
ure whether  or  not  that  course  suffices  to  remove  you  from  the 
government  of  Byzantium.  Heralds,  advance  j  our  council  is 
dissolved." 

With  these  words  Pausanias  rose ;  and  the  majesty  of  his 
bearing,  with  the  unwonted  temper  and  conciliation  of  his 
language,  so  came  in  aid  of  his  high  office  that  no  man  ven- 
tured a  dissentient  murmur. 

The  conclave  broke  up,  and  not  till  its  members  had  gained 
the  outer  air  did  any  signs  of  suspicion  or  dissatisfaction 
evince  themselves ;  but  then,  gathering  in  groups,  the  lonians 
with  especial  jealousy  discussed  what  had  passed,  and  with 


264  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

their  native  shrewdness  ascribed  the  moderation  of  Pausanias 
to  his  desire  to  screen  Gongylus  and  avoid  further  inquisition 
into  the  flight  of  the  prisoners.  The  discontented  looked 
round  for  Cimon ;  but  the  young  Athenian  had  hastily  retired 
from  the  throng,  and  after  issuing  orders  to  pursue  the  fugi- 
tives, sought  Aristides  in  the  house  near  the  quay  in  which 
he  lodged. 

Cimon  related  to  his  friend  what  had  passed  at  the  meeting, 
and  terminating  his  recital,  said,  — 

"  Thou  shouldst  have  been  with  us.  With  thee  we  might 
have  ventured  more." 

"And  if  so,"  returned  the  wise  Athenian,  with  a  smile,  "ye 
would  have  prospered  less.  Precisely  because  I  would  not 
commit  our  country  to  the  suspicion  of  fomenting  intrigues 
and  mutiny  to  her  own  advantage,  did  I  abstain  from  the 
assembly,  well  aware  that  Pausanias  would  bring  his  min- 
ion harmless  from  the  unsupported  accusation  of  Antagoras. 
Thou  hast  acted  with  cool  judgment,  Cimon.  The  Spartan 
is  weaving  the  webs  of  the  Parcse  for  his  own  feet.  Leave 
him  to  weave  on,  undisturbed.  The  hour  in  which  Athens 
shall  assume  the  sovereignty  of  the  seas  is  drawing  near.  Let 
it  come,  like  Jove's  thunder,  in  a  calm  sky." 


CHAPTER  III. 

Pausanias  did  not  that  night  quit  the  city.  After  the 
meeting,  he  held  a  private  conference  with  the  Spartan 
Equals,  whom  custom  and  the  government  assigned,  in  ap- 
pearance as  his  attendants,  in  reality  as  witnesses,  if  not 
spies,  of  his  conduct.  Though  every  pure  Spartan,  as  com- 
pared with  the  subject  Laconian  population,  was  noble,  the 
republic  acknowledged  two  main  distinctions  in  class, — the 
higher,  entitled  Equals,  —  (a  word  which  we  might  not  inaptly 
and  more  intelligibly  render  Peers);   the  lower,   Inferiors. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  265 

These  distinctions,  though  hereditary,  were  not  immutable.  ^^ 
The  peer  could  be  degraded;  the  inferior  could  become  a  peer. 
To  the  royal  person  in  war  three  peers  were  allotted.  Those 
assigned  to  Pausanias,  of  the  tribe  called  the  Hylleans,  were 
naturally  of  a  rank  and  influence  that  constrained  him  to  treat 
them  with  a  certain  deference,  which  perpetually  chafed  his 
pride  and  confirmed  his  discontent;  for  these  three  men  were 
precisely  of  the  mould  which  at  heart  he  most  despised. 
Polydorus,  the  first  in  rank,  —  for,  like  Pausanias,  he  boasted 
his  descent  from  Hercules,  —  was  the  personification  of  the 
rudeness  and  bigotry  of  a  Spartan  who  had  never  before 
stirred  from  his  rocky  home,  and  who  disdained  all  that  he 
could  not  comprehend.  Gelon,  the  second,  passed  for  a  very 
wise  man,  for  he  seldom  spoke  but  in  monosyllables;  yet 
probably  his  words  were  as  numerous  as  his  ideas.  Cleo- 
menes,  the  third,  was  as  distasteful  to  the  regent  from  his 
merits  as  the  others  from  their  deficiencies.  He  had  risen 
from  the  grade  of  the  Inferiors  by  his  valour;  blunt,  homely, 
frank,  sincere,  he  never  disguised  his  displeasure  at  the  man- 
ner of  Pausanias,  though,  a  true  Spartan  in  discipline,  he 
never  transgressed  the  respect  which  his  chief  commanded  in 
time  of  war. 

Pausanias  knew  that  these  officers  were  in  correspondence 
with  Sparta,  and  he  now  exerted  all  his  powers  to  remove  from 
their  minds  any  suspicion  which  the  disappearance  of  the 
prisoners  might  have  left  in  them. 

In  this  interview  he  displayed  all  those  great  natural 
powers  which,  rightly  trained  and  guided,  might  have  made 
him  not  less  great  in  council  than  in  war.  With  masterly 
precision  he  enlarged  on  the  growing  ambition  of  Athens,  on 
the  disposition  in  her  favour  evinced  by  all  the  Ionian  con- 
federates. "Hitherto,"  he  said  truly,  "Sparta  has  uniformly 
held  rank  as  the  first  State  of  Greece ;  the  leadership  of  the 
Greeks  belongs  to  us  by  birth  and  renown.  But  see  you  not 
that  the  war  is  now  shifting  from  land  to  sea?  Sea  is  not  our 
element;  it  is  that  of  Athens,  of  all  the  Ionian  race.  If  this 
continue,  we  lose  our  ascendancy,  and  Athens  becomes  the 
sovereign  of  Hellas.     Beneath  the  calm  of  Aristides  I  detect 


266  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

his  deep  design.  In  vain  Ciinon  affects  the  manner  of  the 
Spartan ;  at  heart  he  is  Athenian.  This  charge  against  Gon- 
gylus  is  aimed  at  me.  Grant  that  the.  plot  which  it  conceals 
succeed;  grant  that  Sparta  share  the  affected  suspicions  of 
the  lonians,  and  recall  me  from  Byzantium:  deem  you  that 
there  lives  one  Spartan  who  could  delay  for  a  day  the  suprem- 
acy of  Athens?  Nought  save  the  respect  the  Dorian  Greeks 
at  least  attach  to  the  general  at  Platsea  could  restrain  the  secret 
ambition  of  the  city  of  the  demagogues.  Deem  not  that  I 
have  been  as  rash  and  vain  as  some  hold  me  for  the  stern  vis- 
age I  have  shown  to  the  lonians.  Trust  me  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  awe  them,  with  a  view  to  maintain  our  majesty.  For 
Sparta  to  preserve  her  ascendancy,  two  things  are  needful,  — 
first,  to  continue  the  war  by  land;  secondly,  to  disgust  the 
lonians  with  their  sojourn  here,  send  them  with  their  ships 
to  their  own  havens,  and  so  leave  Hellas  under  the  sole  guar- 
dianship of  ourselves  and  our  Peloponnesian  allies.  There- 
fore, I  say,  bear  with  me  in  this  double  design;  chide  me  not 
if  my  haughty  manner  disperse  these  subtle  lonians.  If  I 
bore  with  them  to-day,  it  was  less  from  respect  than  —  shall 
I  say  it?  —  my  fear  lest  you  should  misinterpret  me.  Beware 
how  you  detail  to  Sparta  whatever  might  rouse  the  jealousy  of 
her  government.  Trust  to  me,  and  I  will  extend  the  domin- 
ion of  Sparta  till  it  grasp  the  whole  of  Greece.  We  will  de- 
pose everywhere  the  revolutionary  Demos,  and  establish  our 
own  oligarchies  in  every  Grecian  State;  we  will  Laconize  all 
Hellas." 

Much  of  what  Pausanias  said  was  wise  and  profound.  Such 
statesmanship,  narrow  and  congenial,  but  vigorous  and  crafty, 
Sparta  taught  in  later  years  to  her  alert  politicians.  And  we 
have  already  seen  that,  despite  the  dazzling  prospects  of 
Oriental  dominion,  he  as  yet  had  separated  himself  rather 
from  the  laws  than  the  interests  of  Sparta,  and  still  incorpo- 
rated his  own  ambition  with  the  extension  of  the  sovereignty 
of  his  country  over  the  rest  of  Greece. 

But  the  peers  heard  him  in  dull  and  gloomy  silence;  and 
not  till  he  had  paused  and  thrice  asked  for  a  reply,  did  Poly- 
dorus  speak. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  267 

"You  would  increase  the  dominion  of  Sparta,  Pausanias. 
Increase  of  dominion  is  waste  of  life  and  treasure.  We  have 
few  men,  little  gold;  Sparta  is  content  to  hold  her  own." 

"Good,"  said  Gelon,  with  impassive  countenance.  "What 
care  we  who  leads  the  Greeks  into  blows?  The  fewer  blows 
the  better.  Brave  men  fight  if  they  must;  wise  men  never 
fight  if  they  can  help  it." 

"And  such  is  your  counsel,  Cleomenes?"  asked  Pausanias, 
with  a  quivering  lip. 

"Not  from  the  same  reasons,"  answered  the  nobler  and 
more  generous  Spartan.  "I  presume  not  to  question  your 
motives,  Pausanias.  I  leave  you  to  explain  them  to  the 
ephors  and  the  Gerusia.  But  since  you  press  me,  this  I  say. 
First,  all  the  Greeks,  Ionian  as  well  as  Dorian,  fought  equally 
against  the  Mede,  and  from  the  commander  of  the  Greeks  all 
should  receive  fellowship  and  courtesy.  Secondly,  I  say  if 
Athens  is  better  fitted  than  Sparta  for  the  maritime  ascend- 
ancy, let  Athens  rule,  so  that  Hellas  be  saved  from  the  Mede. 
Thirdly,  0  Pausanias,  I  pray  that  Sparta  may  rest  satisfied 
with  her  own  institutions,  and  not  disturb  the  peace  of  Greece 
by  forcing  them  upon  other  States,  and  thereby  enslaving 
Hellas.  What  more  could  the  Persian  do?  Finally,  my 
advice  is  to  suspend  Gongylus  from  his  ofiice;  to  conciliate 
the  lonians;  to  remain  as  a  Grecian  armament  firm  and 
united,  and  so  procure,  on  better  terms,  peace  with  Persia. 
And  then  let  each  State  retire  within  itself,  and  none  aspire 
to  rule  the  other.  A  thousand  free  cities  are  better  guard 
against  the  Barbarian  than  a  single  State  made  up  of  re- 
publics overthrown,  and  resting  its  strength  upon  hearts 
enslaved." 

"Do  you,  too,"  said  Pausanias,  gnawing  his  nether  lip, 
"  do  you,  too,  Polydorus,  —  you  too,  Gelon,  —  agree  with 
Cleomenes  that  if  Athens  is  better  fitted  than  Sparta  for 
the  sovereignty  of  the  seas,  we  should  yield  to  that  restless 
rival  so  perilous  a  power?" 

"Ships  cost  gold,"  said  Polydorus;  "Spartans  have  none 
to  spare.  Mariners  require  skilful  captains;  Spartans  know 
nothing  of  the  sea." 


268  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

"Moreover,"  quotli  Gelon,  "the  ocean  is  a  terrible  element. 
What  can  valour  do  against  a  storm?  We  may  lose  more 
men  by  adverse  weather  than  a  century  can  repair.  Let  who 
will  have  the  seas;  Sparta  has  her  rocks  and  defiles." 

"Men  and  peers,"  said  Pausanias,  ill  repressing  his  scorn, 
"ye  little  dream  what  arms  ye  place  in  the  hands  of  the 
Athenians.  I  have  done.  Take  only  this  prophecy.  You 
are  now  the  head  of  Greece.  You  surrender  your  sceptre  to 
Athens,  and  become  a  second-rate  power." 

"  Never  second-rate  when  Greece  shall  demand  armed  men, " 
said  Cleomenes,  proudly. 

"  Armed  men,  armed  men ! "  cried  the  more  profound  Pau- 
sanias. "Do  you  suppose  that  commerce,  that  trade,  that 
maritime  energy,  that  fleets  which  ransack  the  shores  of  the 
world,  will  not  obtain  a  power  greater  than  mere  brute-like 
valour?    But  as  ye  will,  as  ye  will." 

"As  we  speak,  our  forefathers  thought,"  said  Gelon. 

"And,  Pausanias,"  said  Cleomenes,  gravely,  "as  we  speak, 
so  think  the  ephors." 

Pausanias  fixed  his  dark  eye  on  Cleomenes,  and  after  a  brief 
pause,  saluted  the  Equals  and  withdrew.  "  Sparta, "  he  mut- 
tered as  he  regained  his  chamber,  "  Sparta,  thou  refusest  to  be 
great;  but  greatness  is  necessary  to  thy  son.  Ah,  their  iron 
laws  would  constrain  my  soul;  but  it  shall  wear  them  as  a 
warrior  wears  his  armour  and  adapts  it  to  his  body.  Thou 
shalt  be  queen  of  all  Hellas,  despite  thyself,  thine  ephors, 
and  thy  laws.     Then  only  will  I  forgive  thee." 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

DiAGORAs  was  sitting  outside  his  door  and  giving  various 
instructions  to  the  slaves  employed  on  his  farm,  when,  through 
an  arcade  thickly  covered  with  the  vine,  the  light  form  of 
Antagoras  came  slowly  in  sight. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN".  269 

"Hail  to  thee,  Diagoras/'  said  the  Chian;  "thou  art  the 
only  wise  man  I  meet  with.  Thou  art  tranquil  while  all  else 
are  disturbed ;  and,  worshipping  the  great  Mother,  thou  carest 
nought,  methinks,  for  the  Persian  who  invades,  or  the  Spartan 
who  professes  to  defend." 

"  Tut !  "  said  Diagoras,  in  a  whisper,  "  thou  knowest  the 
contrary,  —  thou  knowest  that  if  the  Persian  comes,  I  am 
ruined;  and,  by  the  gods,  I  am  on  a  bed  of  thorns  as  long  as 
the  Spartan  stays." 

"Dismiss  thy  slaves,"  exclaimed  Antagoras,  in  the  same 
undertone ;  "  I  would  speak  with  thee  on  grave  matters  that 
concern  us  both." 

After  hastily  finishing  his  instructions  and  dismissing  his 
slaves,  Diagoras  turned  to  the  impatient  Chian  and  said,  — 

"Now,  young  warrior,  I  am  all  ears  for  thy  speech." 

"Truly,"  said  Antagoras,  "if  thou  wert  aware  of  what  I 
am  about  to  utter,  thou  wouldst  not  have  postponed  considera- 
tion for  thy  daughter  to  thy  care  for  a  few  jars  of  beggarly 
olives." 

"  Hem !  "  said  Diagoras,  peevishly.  "  Olives  are  not  to  be 
despised:  oil  to  the  limbs  makes  them  supple;  to  the  stomach 
it  gives  gladness.  Oil,  moreover,  bringeth  money  when  sold. 
But  a  daughter  is  the  plague  of  a  man's  life.  First,  one  has 
to  keep  away  lovers;  and  next  to  find  a  husband;  and  when  all 
is.  done,  one  has  to  put  one's  hand  in  one's  chest,  and  pay  a 
tall  fellow  like  thee  for  robbing  one  of  one's  own  child.  That 
custom  of  dowries  is  abominable.  In  the  good  old  times  a 
bridegroom,  as  was  meet  and  proper,  paid  for  his  bride ;  now 
we  poor  fathers  pay  him  for  taking  her.  Well,  well,  never 
bite  thy  forefinger  and  curl  up  thy  brows.  What  thou  hast 
to  say,  say." 

"Diagoras,  I  know  that  thy  heart  is  better  than  thy  speech, 
and  that,  much  as  thou  covetest  money,  thou  lovest  thy  child 
more.  Know,  then,  that  Pausanias  —  a  curse  light  on  him !  — 
brings  shame  upon  Cleonice.  Know  that  already  her  name 
hath  grown  the  talk  of  the  camp.  Know  that  his  visit  to  her 
the  night  before  last  was  proclaimed  in  the  Council  of  the 
Captains  as  a  theme  for  jest  and  rude  laughter.     By  the  head 


270  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

of  Zeus,  how  thinkest  thou  to  profit  by  the  stealthy  wooings 
of  this  black-browed  Spartan?  Knowest  thou  not  that  his 
laws  forbid  him  to  marry  Cleonice?  Wouldst  thou  have  him 
dishonour  her?  Speak  out  to  him  as  thou  speakest  to  men, 
and  tell  him  that  the  maidens  of  Byzantium  are  not  in  the 
control  of  the  general  of  the  Greeks.'^ 

"Youth,  youth,"  cried  Diagoras,  greatly  agitated,  "wouldst 
thou  bring  my  gray  hairs  to  a  bloody  grave?  Wouldst  thou 
see  my  daughter  reft  from  me  by  force,  and  —  " 

"How  darest  thou  speak  thus,  old  man?"  interrupted  the 
indignant  Chian.  "  If  Pausanias  wronged  a  virgin,  all  Hellas 
would  rise  against  him." 

"  Yes,  but  not  till  the  ill  were  done,  till  my  throat  were  cut, 
and  my  child  dishonoured.  Listen.  At  first,  indeed,  when, 
as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  Pausanias,  lodging  a  few  days  under 
my  roof,  saw  and  admired  Cleonice,  I  did  venture  to  remon- 
strate; and  how  think  you  he  took  it?  'Never,'  quoth  he, 
with  his  stern,  quivering  lip,  *  never  did  conquest  forego  its 
best  right  to  the  smiles  of  beauty.  The  legends  of  Hercules, 
my  ancestor,  tell  thee  that  to  him  who  labours  for  men,  the 
gods  grant  the  love  of  women.  Fear  not  that  I  should  wrong 
thy  daughter;  to  woo  her  is  not  to  wrong.  But  close  thy  door 
on  me,  immure  Cleonice  from  my  sight,  and  nor  armed  slaves, 
nor  bolts,  nor  bars  shall  keep  love  from  the  loved  one.' 
Therewith  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  me.  But  the  next 
day  came  a  Lydian  in  his  train,  with  a  goodly  pannier  of  rich 
stuffs  and  a  short  Spartan  sword.  On  the  pannier  was  written 
*  Friendship,'  on  the  sword  *  Wrath; '  and  Alcman  gave  me  a 
scrap  of  parchment,  whereon,  with  the  cursed  brief  wit  of  a 
Spartan,  was  inscribed  *  Choose ! '  Who  could  doubt  which 
to  take?  Who,  by  the  Gods,  would  prefer  three  inches  of 
Spartan  iron  in  his  stomach  to  a  basketful  of  rich  stuffs  for 
his  shoulders?  Wherefore,  from  that  hour,  Pausanias  comes 
as  he  lists.  But  Cleonice  humours  him  not,  let  tongues  wag 
as  they  may.  Easier  to  take  three  cities  than  that  child's 
heart." 

"Is  it  so  indeed?"  exclaimed  the  Chian,  joyfully;  "Cleonice 
loves  him  not?" 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  271 

"Laughs  at  hini  to  his  beard,  — that  is,  would  laugh  if  he 
wore  one." 

"  Oh,  Diagoras,"  cried  Antagoras,  "hear  me,  hear  me.  I  need 
not  remind  thee  that  our  families  are  united  by  the  hospitable 
ties ;  that  amongst  thy  treasures  thou  wilt  find  the  gifts  of  my 
ancestors  for  five  generations;  that  when,  a  year  since,  my 
affairs  brought  me  to  Byzantium,  I  came  to  thee  with  the 
symbols  of  my  right  to  claim  thy  hospitable  cares.  On  leav- 
ing thee  we  broke  the  sacred  die.  I  have  one  half,  thou  the 
other.  In  that  visit  I  saw  and  loved  Cleonice.  Fain  would  I 
have  told  my  love,  but  then  my  father  lived,  and  I  feared  lest 
he  should  oppose  my  suitj  therefore,  as  became  me,  I  was 
silent.  On  my  return  home,  my  fears  were  confirmed;  my 
father  desired  that  I,  a  Chian,  should  wed  a  Chian.  Since  I 
have  been  with  the  fleet,  news  has  reached  me  that  the  urn 
holds  my  father's  ashes."  Here  the  young  Chian  paused. 
"Alas,  alas!"  he  murmured,  smiting  his  breast,  "and  I  was 
not  at  hand  to  fix  over  thy  doors  the  sacred  branch,  to  give 
thee  the  parting  kiss,  and  receive  into  my  lips  thy  latest 
breath.  May  Hermes,  O  father,  have  led  thee  to  pleasant 
groves ! " 

Diagoras,  who  had  listened  attentively  to  the  young  Chian, 
was  touched  by  his  grief,  and  said  pityingly,  — 

"  I  know  thou  art  a  good  son,  and  thy  father  was  a  worthy 
man,  though  harsh.  It  is  a  comfort  to  think  that  all  does  not 
die  with  the  dead.     His  money  at  least  survives  him." 

"But,"  resumed  Antagoras,  not  heeding  this  consolation,  — 
"but  now  I  am  free;  and  ere  this,  so  soon  as  my  mourning 
garment  had  been  laid  aside,  I  had  asked  thee  to  bless  me 
with  Cleonice,  but  that  I  feared  her  love  was  gone,  —  gone  to 
the  haughty  Spartan.  Thou  reassurest  me;  and  in  so  doing, 
thou  confirmest  the  fair  omens  with  which  Aphrodite  has 
received  my  offerings.  Therefore  I  speak  out.  No  dowry 
ask  I  with  Cleonice,  save  such,  more  in  name  than  amount, 
as  may  distinguish  the  wife  from  the  concubine,  and  assure 
her  an  honoured  place  amongst  my  kinsmen.  Thou  knowest 
I  am  rich;  thou  knowest  that  my  birth  dates  from  the  oldest 
citizens  of  Chios.     Give  me  thy  child,  and  deliver  her  thyself 


272  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN". 

at  once  from  the  Spartan's  power.  Once  mine,  all  the  fleets 
of  Hellas  are  her  protection,  and  our  marriage-torches  are  the 
swords  of  a  Grecian  army.  O  Diagoras,  I  clasp  thy  knees ; 
put  thy  right  hand  in  mine.     Give  me  thy  child  as  wife ! " 

The  Byzantine  was  strongly  affected.  The  suitor  was  one 
who,  in  birth  and  possessions,  was  all  that  he  could  desire  for 
his  daughter ;  and  at  Byzantium  there  did  not  exist  that  feel- 
ing against  intermarriages  with  the  foreigner  which  prevailed 
in  towns  more  purely  Greek,  though  in  many  of  them,  too, 
that  antique  prejudice  had  worn  away.  On  the  other  hand, 
by  transferring  to  Antagoras  his  anxious  charge,  he  felt  that 
he  should  take  the  best  course  to  preserve  it  untarnished  from 
the  fierce  love  of  Pausanias ;  and  there  was  truth  in  the  Chiangs 
suggestion.  The  daughter  of  a  Byzantine  might  be  unpro- 
tected; the  wife  of  an  Ionian  captain  was  safe  even  from  the 
power  of  Pausanias.  As  these  reflections  occurred  to  him,  he 
placed  his  right  hand  in  the  Chiangs,  and  said,  — 

"Be  it  as  thou  wilt;  I  consent  to  betroth  thee  to  Cleonice. 
Follow  me;  thou  art  free  to  woo  her." 

So  saying,  he  rose,  and  as  if  in  fear  of  his  own  second 
thoughts,  he  traversed  the  hall  with  hasty  strides  to  the  inte- 
rior of  the  mansion.  He  ascended  a  flight  of  steps,  and 
drawing  aside  a  curtain  suspended  between  two  columns, 
Antagoras,  who  followed  timidly  behind,  beheld  Cleonice. 

As  was  the  wont  in  the  domestic  life  of  all  Grecian  States, 
her  handmaids  were  around  the  noble  virgin.  Two  were  en- 
gaged on  embroidery,  one  in  spinning;  a  fourth  was  reading 
aloud  to  Cleonice,  —  and  that  at  least  was  a  rare  diversion  to 
women,  for  few  had  the  education  of  the  fair  Byzantine. 
Cleonice  herself  was  half  reclined  upon  a  bench  inlaid  with 
ivory  and  covered  with  cushions;  before  her  stood  a  small 
tripod  table  on  which  she  leaned  the  arm,  the  hand  of  which 
supported  her  cheek,  and  she  seemed  listening  to  the  lecture 
of  the  slave  with  earnest  and  absorbed  attention,  —  so  earnest, 
so  absorbed,  that  she  did  not  for  some  moments  perceive  the 
entrance  of  Diagoras  and  the  Chian. 

"Child,"  said  the  former, — and  Cleonice  started  to  her 
feet  and  stood  modestly  before  her  father,  her  eyes  downcast, 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  273 

her  arms  crossed  upon  her  bosom,  —  "  child,  I  bid  thee  wel- 
come my  guest-friend,  Antagoras  of  Chios.  Slaves,  ye  may 
withdraw." 

Cleonice  bowed  her  head;  and  an  unquiet,  anxious  change 
came  over  her  countenance. 

As  soon  as  the  slaves  were  gone,  Biagoras  resumed,  — 

"  Daughter,  I  present  to  thee  a  suitor  for  thy  hand ;  receive 
him  as  I  have  done,  and  he  shall  have  my  leave  to  carve  thy 
name  on  every  tree  in  the  garden,  with  the  lover's  epithet  of 
*  Beautiful '  attached  to  it.  Antagoras,  look  up,  then,  and 
speak  for  thyself." 

But  Antagoras  was  silent,  and  a  fear  unknown  to  his  frank, 
hardy  nature  came  over  him.  With  an  arch  smile,  Diagoras, 
deeming  his  presence  no  longer  necessary  or  expedient,  lifted 
the  curtain,  and  lover  and  maid  were  left  alone. 

Then  with  an  effort,  and  still  with  hesitating  accents,  the 
Chian  spoke, — 

"  Fair  virgin,  not  in  the  groves  of  Byzantium  will  thy  name 
be  first  written  by  the  hand  of  Antagoras.  In  my  native 
Chios  the  myrtle-trees  are  already  eloquent  of  thee.  Since  I 
first  saw  thee,  I  loved.     Maiden,  wilt  thou  be  my  wife?" 

Thrice  moved  the  lips  of  Cleonice,  and  thrice  her  voice 
seemed  to  fail  her.  At  length  she  said :  "  Chian,  thou  art  a 
stranger,  and  the  laws  of  the  Grecian  cities  dishonour  the 
stranger  whom  the  free  citizen  stoops  to  marry." 

"Nay,"  cried  Antagoras,  "such  cruel  laws  are  obsolete  in 
Chios.  Nature  and  custom  and  love's  almighty  goddess  long 
since  have  set  them  aside.  Fear  not ;  the  haughtiest  matron 
of  my  native  State  will  not  be  more  honoured  than  the  Byzan- 
tine bride  of  Antagoras." 

"Is  it  in  Sparta  only  that  such  laws  exist?"  said  Cleonice, 
half  unconsciously;  and  to  the  sigh  with  which  she  spoke  a 
deep  blush  succeeded. 

"Sparta!"  exclaimed  Antagoras,  with  a  fierce  and  jealous 
pang.  "Ah,  are  thy  thoughts  then  upon  the  son  of  Sparta? 
Were  Pausanias  a  Chian,  wouldst  thou  turn  from  him  scorn- 
fully as  thou  now  dost  from  me?" 

"Not  scornfully,  Antagoras,"  answered  Cleonice  (who  had 

18 


274  PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN. 

indeed  averted  her  face,  at  his  reproachful  question ;  but  now 
turned  it  full  upon  him,  with  an  expression  of  sad  and  pathetic 
sweetness),  —  "not  scornfully  do  I  turn  from  thee,  though 
with  pain;  for  what  worthier  homage  canst  thou  render  to 
woman  than  honourable  love?  Gratefully  do  I  hearken  to  the 
suit  that  comes  from  thee ;  but  gratitude  is  not  the  return  thou 
wouldst  ask,  Antagoras.  My  hand  is  my  father's;  my  heart, 
alas!  is  mine.  Thou  mayest  claim  from  him  the  one;  the 
other,  neither  he  can  give,  nor  thou  receive." 

"Say  not  so,  Cleonice,"  cried  the  Chian;  "say  not  that  thou 
canst  not  love  me,  if  so  I  am  to  interpret  thy  words.  Love 
brings  love  with  the  young.  How  canst  thou  yet  know  thine 
own  heart?  Tarry  till  thou  hast  listened  to  mine.  As  the  fire 
on  the  altar  spreads  from  offering  to  offering,  so  spreads  love, 
—  its  flame  envelops  all  that  are  near  to  it.  Thy  heart  will 
catch  the  heavenly  spark  from  mine." 

"Chian,"  said  Cleonice,  gently  withdrawing  the  hand  that 
he  sought  to  clasp,  "when,  as  my  father's  guest-friend,  thou 
wert  a  sojourner  within  these  walls,  oft  have  I  heard  thee 
speak,  and  all  thy  words  spoke  the  thoughts  of  a  noble  soul. 
Were  it  otherwise,  not  thus  would  I  now  address  thee.  Didst 
thou  love  gold,  and  wooed  in  me  but  the  child  of  the  rich 
Diagoras,  or  wert  thou  one  of  those  who  would  treat  for  a  wife 
as  a  trader  for  a  slave,  invoking  Here  but  disdaining  Aphro- 
dite, I  should  bow  my  head  to  my  doom.  But,  thou,  Anta- 
goras, askest  love  for  love;  this  I  cannot  give  thee.  Spare 
me,  0  generous  Chian.  Let  not  my  father  enforce  his  right 
to  my  obedience." 

"Answer  me  but  one  question,"  interrupted  Antagoras  in  a 
low  voice,  though  with  compressed  lips :  "  Dost  thou  then  love 
another?" 

The  blood  mounted  to  the  virgin's  cheeks;  it  suffused  her 
brow,  her  neck,  with  burning  blushes,  and  then,  receding,  left 
her  face  colourless  as  a  statue.  Then  with  tones  low  and  con- 
strained as  his  own,  she  pressed  her  hand  on  her  heart  and 
replied,  "Thou  sayest  it;  I  love  another." 

"And  that  other  is  Pausanias?  Alas!  thy  silence,  thy 
trembling,  answer  me." 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  275 

Antagoras  groaned  aloud  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands;  but  after  a  short  pause  he  exclaimed,  with  great 
emotion,  "No,  no;  say  not  that  thou  lovest  Pausanias;  say- 
not  that  Aphrodite  hath  so  accursed  thee :  for  to  love  Pau- 
sanias is  to  love  dishonour." 

"Hold,  Chian!  Not  so;  for  my  love  has  no  hope.  Our 
hearts  are  not  our  own,  but  our  actions  are.'' 

Antagoras  gazed  on  her  with  suspense  and  awe;  for  as  she 
spoke,  her  slight  form  dilated,  her  lip  curled,  her  cheek 
glowed  again,  but  with  the  blush  less  of  love  than  of  pride. 
In  her  countenance,  her  attitude,  there  was  something  divine 
and  holy,  such  as  would  have  beseemed  a  priestess  of  Diana. 

"Yes,"  she  resumed,  raising  her  eyes,  and  with  a  still  and 
mournful  sweetness  in  her  upraised  features,  "  what  I  love  is 
not  Pausanias,  —  it  is  the  glory  of  which  he  is  the  symbol,  it 
is  the  Greece  of  which  he  has  been  the  saviour.  Let  him 
depart,  as  soon  he  must ;  let  these  eyes  behold  him  no  more : 
still,  there  exists  for  me  all  that  exists  now,  — a  name,  a 
renown,  a  dream.  Never  for  me  may  the  nuptial  hymn  re- 
sound, or  the  marriage  torch  be  illumined.  O  goddess  of  the 
silver  bow,  O  chaste  and  venerable  Artemis !  receive,  protect 
thy  servant;  and  ye,  O  funereal  gods,  lead  me  soon,  lead  the 
virgin,  unreluctant,  to  the  shades." 

A  superstitious  fear,  a  dread  as  if  his  earthly  love  would 
violate  something  sacred,  chilled  the  ardour  of  the  young 
Chian,  and  for  several  moments  both  were  silent. 

At  length  Antagoras,  kissing  the  hem  of  her  robe,  said,  — 

"  Maiden  of  Byzantium,  like  thee,  then,  I  will  love,  though 
without  hope.  I  will  not,  I  dare  not,  profane  thy  presepi3e 
by  prayers  which  pain  thee,  and  seem  to  me,  having  heard 
thee,  almost  guilty,  as  if  proffered  to  some  nymph  circling  in 
choral  dance  the  moonlit  mountain-tops  of  Delos.  But  ere  I 
depart,  and  tell  thy  father  that  my  suit  is  over,  oh,  place  at 
least  thy  right  hand  in  mine,  and  swear  to  me,  not  the  bride's 
vow  of  faith  and  troth,  but  that  vow  which  a  virgin  sister 
may  pledge  to  a  brother,  mindful  to  protect  and  to  avenge 
her.  Swear  to  me  that  if  this  haughty  Spartan,  contemning 
alike  men,  laws,  and  the  household  gods,  should  seek  to  con- 


276  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN. 

strain  thy  purity  to  his  will;  if  thou  shouldst  have  cause  to 
tremble  at  power  and  force,  and  fierce  desire  should  demand 
what  gentle  love  would  but  reverently  implore,  —  then,  Cle- 
onice,  seeing  how  little  thy  father  can  defend  thee,  wilt  thou 
remember  Antagoras,  and  through  him,  summon  around  thee 
all  the  majesty  of  Hellas?  Grant  me  but  this  prayer,  and  I 
leave  thee,  if  in  sorrow,  yet  not  with  terror." 

"Generous  and  noble  Chian,"  returned  Cleonice,  as  her 
tears  fell  upon  the  hand  he  extended  to  her,  "  why,  why  do  I 
so  ill  repay  thee?  Thy  love  is  indeed  that  which  ennobles  the 
heart  that  yields  it,  and  her  who  shall  one  day  recompense 
thee  for  the  loss  of  me.  Fear  not  the  power  of  Pausanias ; 
dream  not  that  I  shall  need  a  defender,  while  above  us  reign 
the  gods,  and  below  us  lies  the  grave.  Yet,  to  appease  thee, 
take  my  right  hand  and  hear  my  oath.  If  the  hour  comes 
when  I  have  need  of  man's  honour  against  man's  wrong,  I 
will  call  on  Antagoras  as  a  brother." 

Their  hands  closed  in  each  other;  and  not  trusting  himself 
to  speech,  Ajitagoras  turned  away  his  face  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  V. 

For  some  days  an  appearance  at  least  of  harmony  was 
restored  to  the  contending  factions  in  the  Byzantine  camp. 

Pausanias  did  not  dismiss  Gongylus  from  the  government 
of  the  city,  but  he  sent,  one  by  one,  for  the  more  important 
of  the  Ionian  complainants,  listened  to  their  grievances,  and 
promised  redress.  He  adopted  a  more  popular  and  gracious 
demeanour,  and  seemed,  with  a  noble  grace,  to  submit  to  the 
policy  of  conciliating  the  allies. 

But  discontent  arose  from  causes  beyond  his  power,  had  he 
genuinely  exerted  it,  to  remove;  for  it  was  a  discontent  that 
lay  in  the  hostility  of  race  to  race.  Though  the  Spartan 
Equals  had  preached  courtesy  to  the  lonians,  the  ordinary 
manner  of  the  Spartan  warriors  was  invariably  offensive  to 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  277 

the  vain  and  susceptible  confederates  of  a  more  polished  race. 
A  Spartan,  wherever  he  might  be  placed,  unconsciously  as- 
sumed superiority.  The  levity  of  an  Ionian  was  ever  dis- 
pleasing to  him.  Out  of  the  actual  battle-field,  they  could 
have  no  topics  in  common,  none  which  did  not  provoke  irrita- 
tion and  dispute.  On  the  other  hand,  most  of  the  lonians 
could  ill  conceal  their  disaffection,  mingled  with  something  of 
just  contempt  at  the  notorious  and  confessed  incapacity  of  the 
Spartans  for  maritime  affairs,  while  a  Spartan  was  yet  the 
commander  of  the  fleet.  And  many  of  them,  wearied  with 
inaction,  and  anxious  to  return  home,  were  willing  to  seize 
any  reasonable  pretext  for  desertion.  In  this  last  motive  lay 
the  real  strength  and  safety  of  Pausanias.  And  to  this  end 
his  previous  policy  of  arrogance  was  not  so  idle  as  it  had 
seemed  to  the  Greeks,  and  appears  still  in  the  page  of  history. 
For  a  Spartan  really  anxious  to  preserve  the  pre-eminence  of 
his  country,  and  to  prevent  the  sceptre  of  the  seas  passing  to 
Athens,  could  have  devised  no  plan  of  action  more  sagacious 
and  profound  than  one  which  would  disperse  the  lonians  and 
the  Athenians  themselves,  and  reduce  the  operations  of  the 
Grecian  force  to  that  land  warfare  in  which  the  Spartan  pre- 
eminence was  equally  indisputable  and  undisputed.  And 
still  Pausanias,  even  in  his  change  of  manner,  plotted  and 
intrigued  and  hoped  for  this  end.  Could  he  once  sever  from 
the  encampment  the  Athenians  and  the  Ionian  allies,  and  yet 
remain  with  his  own  force  at  Byzantium  until  the  Persian 
army  could  collect  on  the  Phrygian  frontier,  the  way  seemed 
clear  to  his  ambition.  Under  ordinary  circumstances,  in  this 
object  he  might  easily  have  succeeded.  But  it  chanced  that 
all  his  schemes  were  met  with  invincible  mistrust  by  those  in 
whose  interest  they  were  conceived,  and  on  whose  co-operation 
they  depended  for  success.  The  means  adopted  by  Pausanias 
in  pursuit  of  his  policy  were  too  distasteful  to  the  national 
prejudices  of  the  Spartan  government  to  enable  him  to  elicit 
from  the  national  ambition  of  that  government  suflicient  sym- 
pathy with  the  object  of  it.  The  more  he  felt  himself  un- 
comprehended  and  mistrusted  by  his  countrymen,  the  more 
personal  became  the  character  and  the  more  unscrupulous  the 


278  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

course  of  his  ambition.  Unliappily  for  Pausanias,  moreover, 
the  circumstances  which  chafed  his  pride,  also  thwarted  the 
satisfaction  of  his  affections ;  and  his  criminal  ambition  was 
stimulated  by  that  less  guilty  passion  which  shared  with  it 
the  mastery  of  a  singularly  turbulent  and  impetuous  soul. 
Not  his  the  love  of  sleek,  gallant,  and  wanton  youth  j  it  was 
the  love  of  man  in  his  mature  years,  but  of  man  to  whom  love 
till  then  had  been  unknown.  In  that  large  and  dark  and 
stormy  nature,  all  passions,  once  admitted,  took  the  growth 
of  Titans.  He  loved  as  those  long  lonely  at  heart  alone  can 
love;  he  loved  as  love  the  unhappy  when  the  unfamiliar  bliss 
of  the  sweet  human  emotion  descends  like  dew  upon  the  desert. 
To  him  Cleonice  was  a  creature  wholly  out  of  the  range  of 
experience.  Differing  in  every  shade  of  her  versatile  humour 
from  the  only  women  he  had  known,  the  simple,  sturdy,  un- 
educated maids  and  matrons  of  Sparta,  her  softness  enthralled 
him,  her  anger  awed.  In  his  dreams  of  future  power,  of  an 
absolute  throne  and  unlimited  dominion,  Pausanias  beheld 
the  fair  Byzantine  crowned  by  his  side.  Fiercely  as  he  loved, 
and  little  as  the  sentiment  of  love  mingled  with  his  passion, 
he  yet  thought  not  to  dishonour  a  victim,  but  to  elevate  a 
bride.  What  though  the  laws  of  Sparta  were  against  such 
nuptials,  was  not  the  hour  approaching  when  these  laws 
should  be  trampled  under  his  armed  heel?  Since  the  con- 
tract with  the  Persians,  which  Gongylus  assured  him  Xerxes 
would  joyously  and  promptly  fulfil,  Pausanias  already  felt, 
in  a  soul  whose  arrogance  arose  from  the  consciousness  of 
powers  that  had  not  yet  found  their  field,  as  if  he  were  not 
the  subject  of  Sparta,  but  her  lord  and  king.  In  his  inter- 
views with  Cleonice,  his  language  took  a  tone  of  promise  and 
of  hope  that  at  times  lulled  her  fears,  and  communicated  its 
sanguine  colourings  of  the  future  to  her  own  dreams.  With 
the  elasticity  of  youth,  her  spirits  rose  from  the  solemn  de- 
spondency with  which  she  had  replied  to  the  reproaches  of 
Antagoras;  for  though  Pausanias  spoke  not  openly  of  his 
schemes,  though  his  words  were  mysterious,  and  his  replies 
to  her  questions  ambiguous  and  equivocal,  still  it  seemed  to 
her,  seeing  in  him  the  hero  of  all  Hellas,  so  natural  that  he 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  279 

could  make  the  laws  of  Sparta  yield  to  the  weight  of  his 
authority,  or  relax  in  homage  to  his  renown,  that  she  indulged 
the  belief  that  his  influence  would  set  aside  the  iron  customs 
of  his  country.  Was  it  too  extravagant  a  reward  to  the  con- 
queror of  the  Mede  to  suffer  him  to  select  at  least  the  partner 
of  his  hearth?  No,  Hope  was  not  dead  in  that  young  breast. 
Still  might  she  be  the  bride  of  him  whose  glory  had  dazzled 
her  noble  and  sensitive  nature,  till  the  faults  that  darkened  it 
were  lost  in  the  blaze.  Thus  insensibly  to  herself  her  tones 
became  softer  to  her  stern  lover,  and  her  heart  betrayed  itself 
more  in  her  gentle  looks.  Yet  again  were  there  times  when 
doubt  and  alarm  returned  with  more  than  their  earlier  force, 
—  times  when,  wrapped  in  his  lurid  and  absorbing  ambition, 
Pausanias  escaped  from  his  usual  suppressed  reserve;  times 
when  she  recalled  that  night  in  which  she  had  witnessed  his 
interview  with  the  strangers  of  the  East,  and  had  trembled 
lest  the  altar  should  be  kindled  upon  the  ruins  of  his  fame. 
For  Cleonice  was  wholly,  ardently,  sublimely  Greek,  —  filled 
in  each  crevice  of  her  soul  with  its  lovely  poetry,  its  beautiful 
superstition,  its  heroic  freedom.  As  Greek,  she  had  loved 
Pausanias,  seeing  in  him  the  lofty  incarnation  of  Greece 
itself.  The  descendant  of  the  demigod,  the  champion  of 
Platsea,  the  saviour  of  Hellas,  —  theme  for  song  till  song 
should  be  no  more,  —  these  attributes  were  what  she  beheld 
and  loved;  and  not  to  have  reigned  by  his  side  over  a  world 
would  she  have  welcomed  one  object  of  that  evil  ambition 
which  renounced  the  loyalty  of  a  Greek  for  the  supremacy  of 
a  king. 

Meanwhile,  though  Antagoras  had,  with  no  mean  degree  of 
generosity,  relinquished  his  suit  to  Cleonice,  he  detected  with 
a  jealous  vigilance  the  continued  visits  of  Pausanias,  and 
burned  with  increasing  hatred  against  his  favoured  and  pow- 
erful rival.  Though,  in  common  with  all  the  Greeks  out  of 
the  Peloponnesus,  he  was  very  imperfectly  acquainted  with 
the  Spartan  constitution,  he  could  not  be  blinded,  like  Cle- 
onice, into  the  belief  that  a  law  so  fundamental  in  Sparta, 
and  so  general  in  all  the  primitive  States  of  Greece,  as  that 
which  forbade  intermarriage  with  a  foreigner,  could  be  can- 


280  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

celled  for  tlie  regent  of  Sparta  and  in  favour  of  an  obscure 
maiden  of  Byzantium.  Every  visit  Pausanias  paid  to  Cleonice 
but  served,  in  bis  eyes,  as  a  prelude  to  ber  ultimate  dishon- 
our. He  lent  bimself,  therefore,  with  all  the  zeal  of  bis 
vivacious  and  ardent  character  to  the  design  of  removing 
Pausanias  himself  from  Byzantium.  He  plotted  with  the 
implacable  Uliades  and  the  other  Ionian  captains  to  send  to 
Sparta  a  formal  mission  stating  their  grievances  against  the 
regent,  and  urging  his  recall.  But  the  altered  manner  of 
Pausanias  deprived  them  of  their  just  pretext;  and  the 
lonians,  more  and  more  under  the  influence  of  the  Athenian 
chief,  were  disinclined  to  so  extreme  a  measure  without  the 
consent  of  Aristides  and  Cimon.  These  two  chiefs  were  not 
passive  spectators  of  affairs  so  critical  to  their  ambition  for 
Athens ;  they  penetrated  into  the  motives  of  Pausanias  in  the 
novel  courtesy  of  demeanour  that  he  adopted,  and  they  fore- 
saw that  if  he  could  succeed  in  wearing  away  the  patience  of 
the  allies  and  dispersing  the  fleet,  yet  without  giving  occa- 
sion for  his  own  recall,  the  golden  opportunity  of  securing  to 
Athens  the  maritime  ascendancy  would  be  lost.  They  re- 
solved, therefore,  to  make  the  occasion  which  the  wiles  of 
the  regent  had  delayed;  and  towards  this  object  Antagoras, 
moved  by  his  own  jealous  hate  against  Pausanias,  worked 
incessantly.  Fearless  and  vigilant,  he  was  ever  on  the  watch 
for  some  new  charge  against  the  Spartan  chief,  ever  relent- 
less in  stimulating  suspicion,  aggravating  discontent,  inflam- 
ing the  fierce,  and  arguing  with  the  timid.  His  less  exalted 
station  allowed  him  to  mix  more  familiarly  with  the  various 
Ionian  officers  than  would  have  become  the  high-born  Cimon 
and  the  dignified  repute  of  Aristides.  Seeking  to  distract  his 
mind  from  the  haunting  thought  of  Cleonice,  he  flung  him- 
self, with  the  ardour  of  his  Greek  temperament,  into  the 
social  pleasures  which  took  a  zest  from  the  design  that  he 
carried  into  them  all.  In  the  banquets,  in  the  sports,  he  was 
ever  seeking  to  increase  the  enemies  of  his  rival ;  and  where 
he  charmed  a  gay  companion,  there  he  often  enlisted  a  bold 
conspirator. 

Pausanias,  the  unconscious  or  the  careless  object  of  the 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  281 

Ionian's  jealous  hate,  could  not  resist  the  fatal  charm  of 
Cleonice's  presence;  and  if  it  sometimes  exasperated  the 
more  evil  elements  of  his  nature,  at  other  times  it  so  lulled 
them  to  rest,  that  had  the  Fates  given  him  the  rightful  claim 
to  that  single  treasure,  not  one  guilty  thought  might  have 
disturbed  the  majesty  of  a  soul  which,  though  undisciplined 
and  uncultured,  owed  half  its  turbulence  and  half  its  rebel- 
lious pride  to  its  baffled  yearnings  for  human  affection  and 
natural  joy.  And  Cleonice,  unable  to  shun  the  visits  which 
her  weak  and  covetous  father,  despite  his  promised  favour  to 
the  suit  of  Antagoras,  still  encouraged,  and  feeling  her  honour 
at  least,  if  not  her  peace,  was  secured  by  that  ascendancy 
which,  with  each  successive  interview  between  them,  her 
character  more  and  more  asserted  over  the  Spartan's  higher 
nature,  relinquished  the  tormenting  levity  of  tone  whereby 
she  had  once  sought  to  elude  his  earnestness,  or  conceal  her 
own  sentiments.  An  interest  in  a  fate  so  solemn,  — an  inter- 
est far  deeper  than  mere  human  love,  —  stole  into  her  heart 
and  elevated  its  instincts.  She  recognized  the  immense  com- 
passion which  was  due  to  the  man  so  desolate  at  the  head  of 
armaments,  so  dark  in  the  midst  of  glory.  Centuries  roll, 
customs  change;  but  ever  since  the  time  of  the  earliest 
mother,  woman  yearns  to  be  the  soother. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

It  was  the  hour  of  the  day  when,  between  the  two  principal 
meals  of  the  Greeks,  men  surrendered  themselves  to  idleness 
or  pleasure;  when  groups  formed  in  the  market-place,  or 
crowded  the  barber's  shops  to  gossip  and  talk  of  news ;  when 
the  tale-teller  or  ballad-singer  collected  round  him  on  the 
quays  his  credulous  audience;  when  on  playgrounds  that 
stretched  behind  the  taverns  or  without  the  walls,  the  more 
active  youths  assembled,  and  the  quoit  was  hurled,  or  mimic 


282  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

battles  waged  with  weapons  of  wood,  or  tlie  Dorians  weaved 
their  simple,  the  lonians  their  more  intricate  or  less  decorous 
dances.  At  that  hour  Lysander,  wandering  from  the  circles 
of  his  countrymen,  walked  musingly  by  the  seashore. 

"And  why,"  said  the  voice  of  a  person  who  had  approached 
him  unperceived,  "and  why,  0  Lysander,  art  thou  absent 
from  thy  comrades,  thou  model  and  theme  of  the  youths  of 
Sparta,  foremost  in  their  manly  sports  as  in  their  martial 
labours?" 

Lysander  turned,  and  bowed  low  his  graceful  head;  for  he 
who  accosted  him  was  scarcely  more  honoured  by  the  Athen- 
ians, whom  his  birth,  his  wealth,  and  his  popular  demeanour 
dazzled,  than  by  the  plain  sons  of  Sparta,  who  in  his  simple 
garb,  his  blunt  and  hasty  manner,  his  professed  admiration 
for  all  things  Spartan,  beheld  one  Athenian  at  least  congenial 
to  their  tastes. 

"The  child  that  misses  its  mother,"  answered  Lysander, 
"has  small  joy  with  its  playmates.  And  I,  a  Spartan,  pine 
for  Sparta." 

"Truly,"  returned  Cimon,  "there  must  be  charms  in  thy 
noble  country  of  which  we  other  Greeks  know  but  little,  if 
amidst  all  the  luxuries  and  delights  of  Byzantium  thou  canst 
pine  for  her  rugged  hills.  And  although,  as  thou  knowest 
well,  I  was  once  a  sojourner  in  thy  city  as  ambassador  from 
my  own,  yet  to  foreigners  so  little  of  the  inner  Spartan  life  is 
revealed  that  I  pray  thee  to  satisfy  my  curiosity,  and  explain 
to  me  the  charm  that  reconciles  thee  and  thine  to  institutions 
which  seem  to  the  lonians  at  war  with  the  pleasures  and  the 
graces  of  social  life."^ 

1  Alexander,  king  of  Macedon,  had  visited  the  Athenians  with  overtures 
of  peace  and  alliance  from  Xerxes  and  Mardonius.  These  overtures  were 
confined  to  the  Athenians  alone,  and  the  Spartans  were  fearful  lest  they 
should  be  accepted.  The  Athenians,  however,  generously  refused  them. 
Gold,  said  they,  hath  no  amount,  earth  no  territory,  how  beautiful  soever, 
that  could  tempt  the  Athenians  to  accept  conditions  from  the  Mede  for  the 
servitude  of  Greece.  On  this  the  Persians  invaded  Attica,  and  the  Athenians, 
after  waiting  in  vain  for  promised  aid  from  Sparta,  took  refuge  at  Salamis. 
Meanwhile,  they  had  sent  messengers  or  ambassadors  to  Sparta  to  remon- 
strate on  the  violation  of  their  agreement  in  delaying  succour.    This  chanced 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  283 

"111  can  the  native  of  one  land  explain  to  the  son  of 
another  why  he  loves  it,"  returned  Lysander.  "That  which 
the  Ionian  calls  pleasure,  is  to  me  but  tedious  vanity;  that 
which  he  calls  grace,  is  to  me  but  enervate  levity.  Me  it 
pleases  to  find  the  day,  from  sunrise  to  night,  full  of  occupa- 
tions that  leave  no  languor,  that  employ,  but  not  excite.  For 
the  morning,  our  gymnasia,  our  military  games,  the  chase,  — 
diversions  that  brace  the  limbs  and  leave  us  in  peace  fit  for 
war;  diversions  which,  unlike  the  brawls  of  the  wordy  Agora, 
bless  us  with  the  calm  mind  and  clear  spirit  resulting  from 
vigorous  habits,  and  ensuring  jocund  health.  Noon  brings 
our  simple  feast,  shared  in  public,  enlivened  by  jest;  late  at 
eve  we  collect  in  our  Leschae,  and  the  winter  nights  seem 
short,  listening  to  the  old  men's  talk  of  our  sires  and  heroes. 
To  us  life  is  one  serene  yet  active  holiday.  No  Spartan  con- 
descends to  labour,  yet  no  Spartan  can  womanize  himself  by 
ease.  For  us,  too,  differing  from  you  Ionian  Greeks,  for  us 
women  are  companions,  not  slaves.  Man's  youth  is  passed 
under  the  eyes  and  in  the  presence  of  those  from  whom  he 
may  select,  as  his  heart  inclines,  the  future  mother  of  his 
children.  Not  for  us  your  feverish  and  miserable  ambitions, 
the  intrigues  of  demagogues,  the  drudgery  of  the  mart,  the 
babble  of  the  populace;  we  alone  know  the  quiet  repose  of 
heart.  That  which  I  see  everywhere  else,  the  gnawing  strife 
of  passion,  visits  not  the  stately  calm  of  the  Spartan  life.  We 
have  the  leisure,  not  of  the  body  alone,  but  of  the  soul. 
Equality  with  us  is  the  all  in  all,  and  we  know  not  that 
jealous  anguish,  —  the  desire  to  rise  one  above  the  other. 
We  busy  ourselves  not  in  making  wealth,  in  ruling  mobs,  in 
ostentatious  rivalries  of  State  and  gaud  and  power,  —  struggles 
without  an  object.  When  we  struggle,  it  is  for  an  end. 
Nothing  moves  us  from  our  calm  but  danger  to  Sparta  or  woe 
to  Hellas.  Harmony,  peace,  and  order,  —  these  are  the  graces 
of  our  social  life.     Pity  us,  0  Athenian !  " 

Cimon  had  listened  with  profound  attention  to  a  speech 

at  the  very  time  when,  by  the  death  of  his  father,  Cleombrotus,  Pausanias 
became  regent.  Slowly,  and  after  much  hesitation,  the  Spartans  sent  them 
aid  under  Pausanias.    Two  of  the  ambassadors  were  Aristides  and  Cimon. 


284  PAUSANIASTHE  SPARTAN. 

unusually  prolix  and  descriptive  for  a  Spartan;  and  lie  sighed 
deeply  as  it  closed.  For  that  young  Athenian,  destined  to  so 
renowned  a  place  in  the  history  of  his  country,  was,  despite 
his  popular  manners,  no  favourer  of  the  popular  passions. 
Lofty  and  calm,  and  essentially  an  aristocrat  by  nature  and 
opinion,  this  picture  of  a  life  unruffled  by  the  restless  changes 
of  democracy,  safe  and  aloof  from  the  shifting  humours  of 
the  multitude,  charmed  and  allured  him.  He  forgot  for  the 
moment  those  counter-propensities  which  made  him  still 
Athenian,  —  the  taste  for  magnificence,  the  love  of  women, 
and  the  desire  of  rule.  His  busy  schemes  slept  within  him, 
and  he  answered,  — 

"Happy  is  the  Spartan  who  thinks  with  you.  Yet,"  he 
added,  after  a  pause,  "yet  own  that  there  are  amongst  you 
many  to  whom  the  life  you  describe  has  ceased  to  proffer  the 
charms  that  enthrall  you,  and  who  envy  the  more  diversified 
and  exciting  existence  of  surrounding  States.  Lysander's 
eulogiums  shame  his  chief,  Pausanias." 

"  It  is  not  for  me,  nor  for  thee,  whose  years  scarce  exceed 
my  own,  to  judge  of  our  elders  in  renown,"  said  Lysander, 
with  a  slight  shade  over  his  calm  brow.  "Pausanias  will 
surely  be  found  still  a  Spartan  when  Sparta  needs  him;  and 
the  heart  of  the  Heracleid  beats  under  the  robe  of  the  Mede." 

"Be  frank  with  me,  Lysander:  thou  knowest  that  my  own 
countrymen  often  jealously  accuse  me  of  loving  Sparta  too 
well.  I  imitate,  say  they,  the  manners  and  dress  of  the  Spar- 
tan, as  Pausanias  those  of  the  Mede.  Trust  me,  then,  and 
bear  with  me  when  I  say  that  Pausanias  ruins  the  cause  of 
Sparta.  If  he  tarry  here  longer  in  the  command,  he  will  ren- 
der all  the  allies  enemies  to  thy  country.  Already  he  has 
impaired  his  fame  and  dimmed  his  laurels;  already,  despite 
his  pretexts  and  excuses,  we  perceive  that  his  whole  nature  is 
corrupted.  Recall  him  to  Sparta  while  it  is  yet  time,  —  time 
to  reconcile  the  Greeks  with  Sparta;  time  to  save  the  hero  of 
Platsea  from  the  contaminations  of  the  East.  Preserve  his 
own  glory,  —  dearer  to  thee  as  his  special  friend  than  to  all 
men,  yet  dear  to  me,  though  an  Athenian,  from  the  memory 
of  the  deeds  which  delivered  Hellas." 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  285 

Cimon  spoke  with  the  blunt  and  candid  eloquence  natural 
to  him,  and  to  which  his  manly  countenance  and  earnest  tone 
and  character  for  truth  gave  singular  effect. 

Lysander  remained  long  silent.  At  length  he  said:  "I 
neither  deny  nor  assent  to  thine  arguments,  son  of  Miltiades. 
The  ephors  alone  can  judge  of  their  wisdom." 

"But  if  we  address  them,  by  message,  to  the  ephors,  thou 
and  the  nobler  Spartans  will  not  resent  our  remonstrances?" 

"  All  that  injures  Pausanias,  Lysander  will  resent.  Little 
know  I  of  the  fables  of  poets ;  but  Homer  is  at  least  as  famil- 
iar to  the  Dorian  as  to  the  Ionian,  and  I  think,  with  him,  that 
between  friends  there  is  but  one  love  and  one  anger.'' 

"  Then  are  the  frailties  of  Pausanias  dearer  to  thee  than  his 
fame,  or  Pausanias  himself  dearer  to  thee  than  Sparta,  —  the 
erring  brother  than  the  venerable  mother?" 

Lysander's  voice  died  on  his  lips ;  the  reproof  struck  home 
to  him.  He  turned  away  his  face,  and  with  a  slow  wave  of 
his  hand  seemed  to  implore  forbearance.  Cimon  was  touched 
by  the  action  and  the  generous  embarrassment  of  the  Spartan ; 
he  saw,  too,  that  he  had  left  in  the  mind  he  had  addressed 
thoughts  that  might  work  as  he  had  designed,  and  he  judged, 
by  the  effect  produced  on  Lysander,  what  influence  the  same 
arguments  might  effect  addressed  to  others  less  under  the  con- 
trol of  personal  friendship.  Therefore,  with  a  few  gentle 
words,  he  turned  aside,  continued  his  way,  and  left  Lysander 
alone. 

Entering  the  town,  the  Athenian  threaded  his  path  through 
some  of  the  narrow  lanes  and  alleys  that  wound  from  the 
quays  towards  the  citadel,  avoiding  the  broader  and  more  fre- 
quented streets.  The  course  he  took  was  such  as  rendered  it 
little  probable  that  he  should  encounter  any  of  the  higher 
classes,  and  especially  the  Spartans,  who  from  their  constitu- 
tional pride  shunned  the  resorts  of  the  populace.  But  as  he 
came  nearer  the  citadel,  stray  Helots  were  seen,  at  times, 
emerging  from  the  inns  and  drinking  houses;  and  these 
stopped  short  and  inclined  low  if  they  caught  sight  of  him 
at  a  distance,  for  his  hat  and  staff,  his  majestic  stature  and 
composed  step,  made  them  take  him  for  a  Spartan. 


286  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN^. 

One  of  these  slaves,  however,  emerging  suddenly  from  a 
house  close  by  which  Cimon  passed,  recognized  him,  and 
retreating  within  abruptly,  entered  a  room  in  which  a  man 
sat  alone  and  seemingly  in  profound  thought ;  his  cheek  rested 
on  one  hand,  with  the  other  he  leaned  upon  a  small  lyre,  his 
eyes  were  bent  on  the  ground,  and  he  started,  as  a  man  does, 
dream-like,  from  a  revery,  when  the  Helot  touched  him,  and 
said  abruptly,  and  in  a  tone  of  surprise  and  inquiry,  — 

"Cimon  the  Athenian  is  ascending  the  hill  towards  the 
Spartan  quarter." 

"  The  Spartan  quarter !  Cimon ! "  exclaimed  Alcman,  for  it 
was  he.     "Give  me  thy  cap  and  hide." 

Hastily  enduing  himself  in  these  rough  garments,  and 
drawing  the  cap  over  his  face,  the  Mothon  hurried  to  the 
threshold,  and  seeing  the  Athenian  in  the  distance,  followed 
his  footsteps,  though,  with  the  skill  of  a  man  used  to  ambush, 
he  kept  himself  unseen,  —  now  under  the  projecting  roofs  of 
the  houses,  now  skirting  the  wall,  which,  heavy  with  but- 
tresses, led  towards  the  outworks  of  the  citadel.  And  with 
such  success  did  he  pursue  his  track  that  when  Cimon  paused, 
at  last,  at  the  place  of  his  destination,  and  gave  one  vigilant 
and  searching  glance  around  him,  he  detected  no  living  form. 

He  had  then  reached  a  small  space  of  table-land  on  which 
stood  a  few  trees  of  great  age,  —  all  that  time  and  the  en- 
croachments of  the  citadel  and  the  town  had  spared  of  the 
sacred  grove  which  formerly  surrounded  a  rude  and  primitive 
temple,  the  gray  columns  of  which  gleamed  through  the  heavy 
foliage.  Passing,  with  a  slow  and  cautious  step,  under  the 
thick  shadow  of  the  trees,  Cimon  now  arrived  before  the  open 
door  of  the  temple,  placed  at  the  east,  so  as  to  admit  the  first 
beams  of  the  rising  sun.  Through  the  threshold,  in  the 
middle  of  the  fane,  the  eye  rested  on  the  statue  of  Apollo, 
raised  upon  a  lofty  pedestal  and  surrounded  by  a  rail,  —  a 
statue  not  such  as  the  later  genius  of  the  Athenian  repre- 
sented the  god  of  light  and  youth  and  beauty;  not  wrought 
from  Parian  marble  or  smoothest  ivory,  and  in  the  divinest 
proportions  of  the  human  form,  but  rude,  formal,  and  roughly 
hewn  from  the  wood  of  the  yew-tree,  —  some  early  effigy  of 


PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN.  287 

the  god,  made  by  the  simple  piety  of  the  first  Dorian  col- 
onizers of  Byzantium.  Three  forms  stood  mute  by  an  altar, 
equally  homely  and  ancient,  and  adorned  with  horns,  placed 
a  little  apart  and  considerably  below  the  statue. 

As  the  shadow  of  the  Athenian,  who  halted  at  the  thres- 
hold, fell  long  and  dark  along  the  floor,  the  figures  turned 
slowly,  and  advanced  towards  him.  With  an  inclination  of 
his  head,  Cimon  retreated  from  the  temple;  and  looking 
round,  saw  abutting  from  the  rear  of  the  building  a  small 
cell,  or  chamber,  which  doubtless  in  former  times  had  served 
some  priestly  purpose,  but  now,  doorless,  empty,  desolate, 
showed  the  utter  neglect  into  which  the  ancient  shrine  of  the 
Dorian  god  had  fallen  amidst  the  gay  and  dissolute  Byzan- 
tians.  To  this  cell  Cimon  directed  his  steps;  the  men  he  had 
seen  in  the  temple  followed  him,  and  all  four,  with  brief  and 
formal  greeting,  seated  themselves,  Cimon  on  a  fragment  of 
some  broken  column,  the  others  on  a  bench  that  stretched 
along  the  wall. 

"Peers  of  Sparta,"  said  the  Athenian,  "ye  have  doubtless 
ere  this  revolved  sufficiently  the  grave  matter  which  I  opened 
to  you  in  a  former  conference,  and  in  which,  to  hear  your 
decision,  I  seek  at  your  appointment  these  sacred  precincts." 

"Son  of  Miltiades,"  answered  the  blunt  Polydorus,  "you 
inform  us  that  it  is  the  intention  of  the  Athenians  to  despatch 
a  messenger  to  Sparta  demanding  the  instant  recall  of  Pau- 
sanias.  You  ask  us  to  second  that  request.  But  without  our 
aid  the  Athenians  are  masters  to  do  as  they  will.  Why  should 
we  abet  your  quarrel  against  the  regent?  " 

"Friend,"  replied  Cimon,  "we  the  Athenians  confess  to  no 
quarrel  with  Pausanias;  what  we  demand  is  to  avoid  all  quar- 
rel with  him  or  yourselves.  You  seem  to  have  overlooked  my 
main  arguments.  Permit  me  to  re-urge  them  briefly.  If 
Pausanias  remains,  the  allies  have  resolved  openly  to  revolt; 
if  you,  the  Spartans,  assist  your  chief,  as  methinks  you  needs 
must  do,  you  are  at  once  at  war  with  the  rest  of  the  Greeks. 
If  you  desert  him,  you  leave  Hellas  without  a  chief,  and  we 
will  choose  one  of  our  own.  Meanwhile,  in  the  midst  of  our 
dissensions  the  towns  and  States  well  affected  to  Persia  will 


288  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

return  to  her  sway,  and  Persia  herself  falls  upon  us,  as  no 
longer  an  united  enemy,  but  an  easy  prey.  Tor  the  sake, 
therefore,  of  Sparta  and  of  Greece,  we  entreat  you  to  co- 
operate with  us,  or  rather,  to  let  the  recall  of  Pausanias  be 
effected  more  by  the  wise  precaution  of  the  Spartans  than  by 
the  fierce  resolve  of  the  other  Greeks.  So  you  save  best  the 
dignity  of  your  State,  and  so,  in  reality,  you  best  serve  your 
chief;  for  less  shameful  to  him  is  it  to  be  recalled  by  you 
than  to  be  deposed  by  us." 

"I  know  not,"  said  Gelon,  surlily,  "what  Sparta  hath  to  do 
at  all  with  this  foreign  expedition;  we  are  safe  in  our  own 
defiles." 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  remind  you  that  you  were  scarcely  safe  at 
Thermopylae,  and  that  had  the  advice  Demaratus  proffered  to 
Xerxes  been  taken,  and  that  island  of  Cithera,  which  com- 
mands Sparta  itself,  been  occupied  by  Persian  troops,  as  in  a 
future  time,  if  Sparta  desert  Greece,  it  may  be,  you  were  un- 
done. And,  wisely  or  not,  Sparta  is  now  in  command  at 
Byzantium,  and  it  behooves  her  to  maintain,  with  the  dignity 
she  assumes,  the  interests  she  represents.  Grant  that  Pau- 
sanias be  recalled,  another  Spartan  can  succeed  him.  Whom 
of  your  countrymen  would  you  prefer  to  that  high  post,  if 
you,  0  Peers,  aid  us  in  the  dismissal  of  Pausanias?  "  ^ 


1  This  chapter  was  left  unfinished  by  the  author,  —  probably  with  the 
intention  of  recasting  it.  Such  an  intention,  at  least,  is  indicated  by  the  mar- 
ginal marks  upon  the  manuscript.  —  L. 


BOOK    III. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  fountain  sparkled  to  the  noonday,  the  sward  around 
it  was  sheltered  from  the  sun  by  vines  formed  into  shadowy 
arcades,  with  interlaced  leaves  for  roof.  Afar  through  the 
vistas  thus  formed  gleamed  the  blue  of  a  sleeping  sea. 

Under  the  hills,  or  close  by  the  margin  of  the  fountain, 
Cleonice  was  seated  upon  a  grassy  knoll  covered  with  wild 
flowers.  Behind  her,  at  a  little  distance,  grouped  her  hand- 
maids, engaged  in  their  womanly  work,  and  occasionally  con- 
versing in  whispers.  At  her  feet  reposed  the  grand  form  of 
Pausanias.  Alcman  stood  not  far  behind  him,  his  hand  rest- 
ing on  his  lyre,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  upward  jet  of  the 
fountain. 

"Behold,"  said  Cleonice,  "how  the  water  soars  up  to  the 
level  of  its  source !  " 

"As  my  soul  would  soar  to  thy  love,"  said  the  Spartan, 
amorously. 

"As  thy  soul  should  soar  to  the  stars.  0  son  of  Hercules, 
when  I  hear  thee  burst  into  thy  wild  flights  of  ambition,  I  see 
not  thy  way  to  the  stars." 

"  Why  dost  thou  ever  thus  chide  the  ambition  which  may 
give  me  thee?  " 

"No;  for  thou  mightest  then  be  as  much  below  me  as  thou 
art  now  above.  Too  humble  to  mate  with  the  Heracleid,  I 
am  too  proud  to  stoop  to  the  tributary  of  the  Mede." 

"Tributary  for  a  sprinkling  of  water  and  a  handful  of 
earth.  Well,  my  pride  may  revolt,  too,  from  that  tribute. 
But,  alas!  what  is  the  tribute  Sparta  exacts  from  me  now? 
Personal  liberty,  — freedom  of  soul  itself.     The  Mede's  tribu- 

19 


290  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

tary  may  be  a  king  over  millions;  the  Spartan  regent  is  a 
slave  to  the  few." 

"Cease,  cease,  cease!  I  will  not  hear  thee,"  cried  Cleonice, 
placing  her  hands  on  her  ears. 

Pausanias  gently  drew  them  away,  and  holding  them  both 
captive  in  the  large  clasp  of  his  own  right  hand,  gazed  eagerly 
into  her  pure,  unshrinking  e3^es. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  —"for  in  much  thou  art  wiser  than  I 
am,  unjust  though  thou  art,  —  tell  me  this.  Look  onward  to 
the  future  with  a  gaze  as  steadfast  as  now  meets  mine,  and  say 
if  thou  canst  discover  any  path  except  that  which  it  pleases 
thee  to  condemn,  which  may  lead  thee  and  me  to  the  marriage 
altar!" 

Down  sank  those  candid  eyes,  and  the  virgin's  cheek  grew 
first  rosy  red,  and  then  pale,  as  if  every  drop  of  blood  had 
receded  to  the  heart. 

"  Speak ! "  insisted  Pausanias,  softening  his  haughty  voice 
to  its  meekest  tone. 

"I  cannot  see  the  path  to  the  altar,"  murmured  Cleonice, 
and  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 

"And  if  thou  seest  it  not,"  returned  Pausanias,  "art  thou 
brave  enough  to  say,  — Be  we  lost  to  each  other  for  life?  I, 
though  man  and  Spartan,  am  not  brave  enough  to  say  that." 

He  released  her  hands  as  he  spoke,  and  clasped  his  own 
over  his  face.     Both  were  long  silent. 

Alcman  had  for  some  moments  watched  the  lovers  with 
deep  interest,  and  had  caught  into  his  listening  ears  the 
purport  of  their  words.  He  now  raised  his  lyre,  and  swept 
his  hand  over  the  chords.  The  touch  was  that  of  a  master, 
and  the  musical  sounds  produced  their  effect  on  all.  The 
handmaids  paused  from  their  work.  Cleonice  turned  her 
eyes  wistfully  towards  the  Mothon.  Pausanias  drew  his 
hands  from  his  face,  and  cried  joyously,  "  I  accept  the  omen. 
Foster-brother,  I  have  heard  that  measure  to  a  Hymeneal 
Song.     Sing  us  the  words  that  go  with  the  melody." 

"Nay,"  said  Alcman,  gently,  "the  words  are  not  those 
which  are  sung  before  youth  and  maiden  when  they  walk 
over  perishing  flowers  to  bridal  altars  j  they  are  the  words 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  291 

which  embody  a  legend  of  the  land  in  which  the  heroes  of 
old  dwell,  removed  from  earth,  yet  preserved  from  Hades." 

"Ah,"  said  Cleonice, — and  a  strange  expression,  calmly 
mournful,  settled  on  her  features,  — "  then  the  words  may 
haply  utter  my  own  thoughts.  Sing  them  to  us,  I  pray 
thee." 

The  Mothon  bowed  his  head,  and  thus  began :  — 


THE  ISLE  OF  SPIRITS. 

Many  wonders  on  the  ocean 
By  the  moonlight  may  be  seen. 

Under  moonlight  on  the  Euxine 
Rose  the  blessed  silver  isle, 

As  Leostratus  of  Croton, 

At  the  Pythian  God's  behest, 
Steered  along  the  troubled  waters 

To  the  tranquil  spirit-land. 

In  the  earthquake  of  the  battle, 
When  the  Locrians  reeled  before 

Croton's  shock  of  marching  iron. 
Strode  a  Phantom  to  their  van,  — 

Strode  the  shade  of  Locrian  Ajax, 

Guarding  still  the  native  soil, 
And  Leostratus,  confronting. 

Wounded  fell  before  the  spear. 

Leech  and  herb  the  wound  could  heal  not ; 

Said  the  Pythian  God,  "  Depart, 
Voyage  o'er  the  troubled  Euxine 

To  the  tranquil  spirit-land. 

"  There  abides  the  Locrian  Ajax : 
He  who  gave  the  wound  shall  heal ; 

Godlike  souls  are  in  their  mercy 
Stronger  yet  than  in  their  wrath." 

While  at  ease  on  lulled  waters 

Rose  the  blessed  silver  isle, 
Purple  vines  in  lengthening  vistas 

Knit  the  hill-top  to  the  beach. 


292  PAUSAlSriAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

And  the  beach  had  sparry  caverus. 
And  a  floor  of  golden  sands, 

And  wherever  soared  the  cypress, 
Underneath  it  bloomed  the  rose. 

Glimmered  there  amid  the  vine-trees 
Thorough  cavern,  over  beach, 

Lifelike  shadows  of  a  beauty 

Which  the  living  know  no  more,  — 

Towering  statures  of  great  heroes, 

They  who  fought  at  Thebes  and  Troy ; 

And  with  looks  that  poets  dream  of. 
Beamed  the  women  heroes  loved. 

Kingly,  forth  before  their  comrades. 
As  the  vessel  touched  the  shore, 

Came  the  stateliest  Two,  by  Hymen 
Ever  hallowed  into  One. 

As  He  strode,  the  forests  trembled 
To  the  awe  that  crowned  his  brow ; 

As  She  stepped,  the  ocean  dimpled 
To  the  ray  that  left  her  smile. 

*'  Welcome  hither,  fearless  warrior !  " 
Said  a  voice  in  which  there  slept 

Thunder-sounds  to  scatter  armies 
As  a  north-wind  scatters  leaves. 

"  Welcome  hither,  wounded  sufferer," 

Said  a  voice  of  music  low 
As  the  coo  of  doves  that  nestle 

Under  summer  boughs  at  noon. 

"  Who  are  ye,  O  shapes  of  glory  ?  " 
Asked  the  wondering  living  man. 

Quoth  the  Man-ghost,  "  This  is  Helen, 
And  the  Fair  is  for  the  Brave. 

**  Fairest  prize  to  bravest  victor : 
Whom  doth  Greece  her  bravest  deem  ?  " 

Said  Leostratus,  "  Achilles." 
"  Bride  and  bridegroom  then  are  we." 

**  Low  I  kneel  to  thee,  Pelides ; 

But,  oh,  marvel  —  she  thy  bride, 
She  whose  guilt  unpeopled  Hellas, 

She  whose  marriage  lights  fired  Troy  ?  " 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  293 

Frowned  the  large  front  of  Achilles, 

Overshadowing  sea  and  sky, 
Even  as  when  between  Olympus 

And  Oceanus  hangs  storm. 

"  Know,  thou  dullard,"  said  Pelides, 

"  That  on  the  funereal  pyre 
Earthly  sins  are  purged  from  glory, 

And  the  Soul  is  as  the  Name. 

"  If  to  her  in  life,  a  Paris, 

If  to  me  in  life,  a  slave, 
Helen's  mate  is  here  Achilles,  — 

Mine,  the  sister  of  the  stars, 

"  Nought  of  her  survives  but  beauty, 

Nought  of  me  survives  but  fame ; 
Here  the  Beautiful  and  Famous 

Intermingle  evermore." 

Then  throughout  the  Blessed  Island 

Sang  aloud  the  Race  of  Light : 
**  Know,  the  Beautiful  and  Famous 

Marry  here  forevermore  !  " 

"Thy  song  bears  a  meaning  deeper  than  its  words,"  said 
Pausanias;  "but  if  that  meaning  be  consolation,  I  compre- 
hend it  not." 

"I  do,"  said  Cleonice.  "Singer,  I  pray  thee  draw  near. 
Let  us  talk  of  what  my  lost  mother  said  was  the  favourite 
theme  of  the  grander  sages  of  Miletus.  Let  us  talk  of  what 
lies  afar  and  undiscovered  amid  waters  more  troubled  than 
the  Euxine.     Let  us  speak  of  the  Land  of  Souls." 

"Who  ever  returned  from  that  land  to  tell  us  of  it?"  said 
Pausanias.  "Voyagers  that  never  voyaged  thither  save  in 
song." 

"Son  of  Cleombrotus,"  said  Alcman,  "hast  thou  not  heard 
that  in  one  of  the  cities  founded  by  thine  ancestor,  Hercules, 
and  named  after  his  own  name,  there  yet  dwells  a  Priesthood 
that  can  summon  to  living  eyes  the  Phantoms  of  the  dead?  " 

"No,"  answered  Pausanias,  with  the  credulous  wonder 
common  to  eager  natures  which  Philosophy  has  not  with- 
drawn from  the  realm  of  superstition. 


294  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

"But,"  asked  Cleonice,  "does  it  need  the  Necromancer  to 
convince  us  that  the  soul  does  not  perish  when  the  breath 
leaves  the  lips?  If  I  judge  the  burden  of  thy  song  aright, 
thou  art  not,  0  singer,  uninitiated  in  the  divine  and  consol- 
ing doctrines  which,  emanating,  it  is  said,  from  the  schools 
of  Miletus,  establish  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  not  for 
Demigods  and  Heroes  only,  but  for  us  allj  which  imply  the 
soul's  purification  from  earthly  sins,  in  some  regions  less 
chilling  and  stationary  than  the  sunless  and  melancholy 
Hades." 

Alcman  looked  at  the  girl,  surprised. 

"Art  thou  not,  maiden,"  said  he,  "one  of  the  many  female 
disciples  whom  the  successors  of  Pythagoras  the  Samian  have 
enrolled?" 

"Nay,"  said  Cleonice,  modestly;  "but  my  mother  had 
listened  to  great  teachers  of  wisdom,  and  I  speak  imper- 
fectly the  thoughts  I  have  heard  her  utter  when  she  told  me 
she  had  no  terror  of  the  grave." 

"Fair  Byzantine,"  returned  the  Mothon,  while  Pausanias, 
leaning  his  upraised  face  on  his  hand,  listened  mutely  to 
themes  new  to  his  mind  and  foreign  to  his  Spartan  culture, 
—  "fair  Byzantine,  we  in  Lacedsemon,  whether  free  or  en- 
slaved, are  not  educated  to  the  subtle  learning  which  dis- 
tinguishes the  intellect  of  Ionian  Sages.  But  I,  born  and 
licensed  to  be  a  poet,  converse  eagerly  with  all  who  swell  the 
stores  which  enrich  the  treasure-house  of  song.  And  thus, 
since  we  have  left  the  land  of  Sparta,  and  more  especially  in 
yon  city,  the  centre  of  many  tribes  and  of  many  minds,  I 
have  picked  up,  as  it  were,  desultory  and  scattered  notions, 
which,  for  want  of  a  fitting  teacher,  I  bind  and  arrange  for 
myself  as  well  as  I  may.  And  since  the  ideas  that  now  float 
through  the  atmosphere  of  Hellas  are  not  confined  to  the 
great,  —  nay,  perhaps  are  less  visible  to  them  than  to  those 
whose  eyes  are  not  riveted  on  the  absorbing  substances  of 
ambition  and  power,  —  so  I  have  learned  something,  I  know 
not  how,  save  that  I  have  listened,  and  reflected.  And  here, 
where  I  have  heard  what  sages  conjecture  of  a  world  which 
seems  so  far  off,  but  to  which  we  are  so  near  that  we  may 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  295 

reach  it  in  a  moment,  my  interest  might  indeed  be  intense. 
For  what  is  this  world  to  him  who  came  into  it  a  slave?" 

"  Alcman, "  exclaimed  Pausanias,  "  the  foster-brother  of  the 
Heracleid  is  no  more  a  slave." 

The  Mothon  bowed  his  head  gratefully,  but  the  expression 
on  his  face  retained  the  same  calm  and  sombre  resignation. 

"  Alas !  "  said  Cleonice,  with  the  delicacy  of  female  consola- 
tion, "who  in  this  life  is  really  free?  Have  citizens  no  thral- 
dom in  custom  and  law?     Are  we  not  all  slaves?" 

"  True.  All  slaves !  "  murmured  the  royal  victor.  "  Envy 
none,  0  Alcman!  Yet,"  he  continued  gloomily,  "what  is  the 
life  beyond  the  grave  which  sacred  tradition  and  ancient  song 
hold  out  to  us?  Not  thy  silver  island,  vain  singer,  unless  it 
be  only  for  an  early  race  more  immediately  akin  to  the  Gods. 
Shadows  in  the  shade  are  the  dead;  at  the  best  reviving  only 
their  habits  when  on  earth,  in  phantom-like  delusions,  — 
aiming  spectral  darts  like  Orion  at  spectral  lions;  things 
bloodless  and  pulseless;  existences  followed  to  no  purpose 
through  eternity,  as  dreams  are  through  a  night.  Who  cares 
so  to  live  again?     Not  I." 

"  The  sages  that  now  rise  around,  and  speak  oracles  differ- 
ent from  those  heard  at  Delphi,"  said  Alcman,  "treat  not 
thus  the  Soul's  immortality.  They  begin  by  inquiring  how 
creation  rose;  they  seek  to  find  the  primitive  element.  What 
that  may  be,  they  dispute ;  some  say  the  fiery,  some  the  airy, 
some  the  ethereal  element.  Their  language  here  is  obscure. 
But  it  is  a  something  which  forms,  harmonizes,  works,  and 
lives  on  forever.  And  of  that  something  is  the  Soul,  —  crea- 
tive, harmonious,  active,  an  element  in  itself.  Out  of  its 
development  here,  that  soul  comes  on  to  a  new  development 
elsewhere.  If  here  the  beginning  lead  to  that  new  develop- 
ment in  what  we  call  virtue,  it  moves  to  light  and  joy;  if  it 
can  only  roll  on  through  the  grooves  it  has  here  made  for 
itself  in  what  we  call  vice  and  crime,  its  path  is  darkness  and 
wretchedness." 

"  In  what  we  call  virtue, — what  we  call  vice  and  crime  ?  Ah, " 
said  Pausanias,  with  a  stern  sneer,  "  Spartan  virtue,  0  Alcman, 
is  what  a  Helot  may  call  crime.     And  if  ever  the  Helot  rose 


296  PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN. 

and  shouted  freedom,  would  he  not  say,  *  This  is  virtue '  ? 
Would  the  Spartan  call  it  virtue  too,  my  foster-brother?" 

"Son  of  Cleombrotus,"  answered  Alcman,  "it  is  not  for  me 
to  vindicate  the  acts  of  the  master,  nor  to  blame  the  slave  who 
is  of  my  race.  Yet  the  sage  definers  of  virtue  distinguish 
between  the  Conscience  of  a  Polity  and  that  of  the  Individual 
Man.  Self-preservation  is  the  instinct  of  every  community, 
and  all  the  ordinances  ascribed  to  Lycurgus  are  designed  to 
preserve  the  Spartan  existence.  Eor  what  are  the  pure  Spar- 
tan race?  A  handful  of  men  established  as  lords  in  the  midst 
of  a  hostile  population.  Close  by  the  eyry  thine  eagle  fathers 
built  in  the  rocks,  hung  the  silent  Amyclse,  a  city  of  foes  that 
cost  the  Spartans  many  generations  to  subdue.  Hence  thy 
State  was  a  camp,  its  citizens  sentinels;  its  children  were 
brought  up  from  the  cradle  to  support  the  stern  life  to  which 
necessity  devoted  the  men.  Hardship  and  privation  were 
second  nature.  Not  enough  to  be  brave,  vigilance  was 
equally  essential.  Every  Spartan  life  was  precious;  there- 
fore came  the  cunning  which  characterizes  the  Spartan; 
therefore  the  boy  is  permitted  to  steal,  but  punished  if  de- 
tected; therefore  the  whole  commonwealth  strives  to  keep 
aloof  from  the  wars  of  Greece,  unless  itself  be  threatened. 
A  single  battle  in  a  common  cause  might  suffice  to  depopu- 
late the  Spartan  race,  and  leave  it  at  the  mercy  of  the  thou- 
sands that  so  reluctantly  own  its  dominion.  Hence  the 
ruthless  determination  to  crush  the  spirit,  to  degrade  the 
class,  of  the  enslaved  Helots ;  hence  its  dread  lest  the  slum- 
bering brute  force  of  the  Servile  find  in  its  own  masses  a 
head  to  teach  the  consciousness,  and  a  hand  to  guide  the  move- 
ments, of  its  power.  These  are  the  necessities  of  the  Polity, 
—  its  vices  are  the  outgrowth  of  its  necessities ;  and  the  life 
that  so  galls  thee,  and  which  has  sometimes  rendered  mad  those 
who  return  to  it  from  having  known  another,  and  the  danger 
that  evermore  surrounds  the  lords  of  a  sullen  multitude,  are 
the  punishments  of  these  vices.     Comprehendest  thou?" 

"I  comprehend." 

"But  individuals  have  a  conscience  apart  from  that  of  the 
community.     Every  community  has   its  errors  in  its  laws. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  297 

No  human  laws,  how  skilfully  soever  framed,  but  give  to 
a  national  character  defects  as  well  as  merits,  merits  as  well 
as  defects.  Craft,  selfishness,  cruelty  to  the  subdued,  inhos- 
pitable frigidity  to  neighbours,  make  the  defects  of  the  Spar- 
tan character.  But,"  added  Alcman,  with  a  kind  of  reluctant 
anguish  in  his  voice,  "the  character  has  its  grand  virtues  too, 
or  would  the  Helots  not  be  the  masters?  Valour  indomitable, 
grand  scorn  of  death,  passionate  ardour  for  the  State  which 
is  so  severe  a  mother  to  them,  antique  faith  in  the  sacred 
altars,  sublime  devotion  to  what  is  held  to  be  duty,  —  are 
these  not  found  in  the  Spartan  beyond  all  the  Greeks,  as  thou 
seest  them  in  thy  friend  Lysander ;  in  that  soul,  stately,  pure, 
compact  in  its  own  firm  substance  as  a  statue  within  a  temple 
is  in  its  Parian  stone?  But  what  the  Gods  ask  from  man  is 
virtue  in  himself,  according  as  he  comprehends  it.  And, 
therefore,  here  all  societies  are  equal;  for  the  Gods  pardon 
in  the  man  the  faults  he  shares  with  his  community,  and  ask 
from  him  but  the  good  and  the  beautiful,  such  as  the  nature 
of  his  community  will  permit  him  to  conceive  and  to  accom- 
plish. Thou  kno west  that  there  are  many  kinds  of  music  — 
for  instance,  the  Doric,  the  ^olian,  the  Ionian  —  in  Hellas. 
The  Lydians  have  their  music,  the  Phrygians  theirs  too.  The 
Scyth  and  the  Mede  doubtless  have  their  own.  Each  race 
prefers  the  music  it  cultivates,  and  finds  fault  with  the  music 
of  other  races.  And  yet  a  man  who  has  learned  melody  and 
measure  will  recognize  a  music  in  them  all.  So  it  is  with 
virtue,  — the  music  of  the  human  soul.  It  differs  in  differing 
races.  But  he  who  has  learned  to  know  what  virtue  is,  can 
recognize  its  harmonies,  wherever  they  be  heard.  And  thus 
the  soul  that  fulfils  its  own  notions  of  music,  and  carries  them 
up  to  its  idea  of  excellence,  is  the  master  soul;  and  in  the 
regions  to  which  it  goes,  when  the  breath  leaves  the  lips,  it 
pursues  the  same  art  set  free  from  the  trammels  that  confined 
and  the  false  judgments  that  marred  it  here.  For  then  the 
soul  is  no  longer  Spartan  or  Ionian,  Lydian,  Median,  or 
Scythian.  Escaped  into  the  upper  air,  it  is  the  citizen  of 
universal  freedom  and  universal  light.  And  hence  it  does 
not  live  as  a  ghost  in  gloomy  shades,  being  merely  a  pale 


298  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

memory  of  things  that  have  passed  away,  but  in  its  primitive 
being  as  an  emanation  from  the  one  divine  principle  which 
penetrates  everywhere,  vivifies  all  things,  and  enjoys  in  all. 
This  is  what  I  weave  together  from  the  doctrines  of  varying 
schools,  —  schools  that  collect  from  the  fields  of  thought 
flowers  of  different  kinds  which  conceal,  by  adorning  it,  the 
ligament  that  unites  them  all.  This,  I  say,  0  Pausanias, 
is  my  conception  of  the  soul." 

Cleonice  rose  softly,  and  taking  from  her  bosom  a  rose, 
kissed  it  fervently  and  laid  it  at  the  feet  of  the  singer. 

"Were  this  my  soul,"  cried  she,  "I  would  ask  thee  to  bind 
it  in  the  wreath." 

Vague  and  troubled  thoughts  passed  meanwhile  through 
the  mind  of  the  Heracleid;  old  ideas  being  disturbed  and 
dislodged,  the  new  ones  did  not  find  easy  settlement  in  a 
brain  occupied  with  ambitious  schemes  and  a  heart  agitated 
by  stormy  passions.  In  much  superstitious,  in  much  scepti- 
cal, as  education  had  made  him  the  one,  and  experience  but 
of  worldly  things  was  calculated  to  make  him  the  other,  he 
followed  not  the  wing  of  the  philosophy  which  passed  through 
heights  not  occupied  by  Olympus,  and  dived  into  depths 
where  no  Tartarus  echoed  to  the  wail  of  Cocytus. 

After  a  pause  he  said,  in  his  perplexity,  — 

"  Well  mayst  thou  own  that  no  Delphian  oracle  tells  thee 
all  this.  And  when  thou  speakest  of  the  Divine  Principle  as 
One,  dost  thou  not,  0  presumptuous  man,  depopulate  the 
Halls  of  Ida?  Nay,  is  it  not  Zeus  himself  whom  thou  de- 
thronest?  Is  not  thy  Divine  Principle  the  Fate  which  Zeus 
himself  must  obey?" 

"  There  is  a  young  man  of  Clazomense,"  answered  the  singer, 
"named  Anaxagoras,  who,  avoiding  all  active  life,  though  of 
birth  the  noblest,  gives  himself  up  to  contemplation,  and 
whom  I  have  listened  to  in  the  city  as  he  passed  through  it, 
on  his  way  into  Egypt.  And  I  heard  him  say,  *  Fate  is  an 
empty  name.'  ^     Fate  is  blind;  the  Divine  is  All-seeing." 

1  Anaxagoras  was  then  between  twenty  and  thirty  years  of  age.  See 
Ritter,  vol.  ii.,  for  the  sentiment  here  ascribed  to  him,  and  a  general  view  of 
his  tenets. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  299 

"How!  "  cried  Cleonice.     "An  empty  name,  she,  Necessity 
the  All-compelling." 

The  musician  drew  from  the  harp  one  of  the  most  artful  of 
Sappho's  exquisite  melodies. 

"What  drew  forth  that  music?"  he  asked,  smiling.  "My 
hand  and  my  will  from  a  genius  not  present,  not  visible.  Was 
that  genius  a  blind  fate?  No,  it  was  a  grand  intelligence. 
Nature  is  to  the  Deity  what  my  hand  and  will  are  to  the 
unseen  genius  of  the  musician.  They  obey  an  intelligence 
and  they  form  a  music.  If  creation  proceed  from  an  intelli- 
gence, what  we  call  fate  is  but  the  consequence  of  its  laws. 
And  Nature  operates  not  in  the  external  world  alone,  but  in 
the  core  of  all  life;  therefore  in  the  mind  of  man,  obeying 
only  what  some  supreme  intelligence  has  placed  there ;  there- 
fore in  man's  mind,  producing  music  or  discord,  according  as 
he  has  learned  the  principles  of  harmony,  —  that  is,  of  good. 
And  there  be  sages  who  declare  that  Intelligence  and  Love 
are  the  same.  Yet,"  added  the  Mothon,  with  an  aspect  sol- 
emnly compassionate,  "not  the  love  thou  mockest  by  the 
name  of  Aphrodite.  No  mortal  eye  hath  ever  seen  that  love 
within  the  known  sphere,  yet  all  insensibly  feel  its  reign. 
What  keeps  the  world  together  but  affection?  What  makes 
the  earth  bring  forth  its  fruits,  but  the  kindness  which  beams 
in  the  sunlight  and  descends  in  the  dews?  What  makes  the 
lioness  watch  over  her  cubs,  and  the  bird,  with  all  air  for  its 
wanderings,  come  back  to  the  fledglings  in  its  nest?  Strike 
love,  the  conjoiner,  from  creation,  and  creation  returns  to  a 
void.  Destroy  love  the  parental,  and  life  is  born  but  to  per- 
ish. Where  stop  the  influence  of  love,  or  how  limit  its  mul- 
tiform degrees?  Love  guards  the  fatherland,  crowns  with 
turrets  the  walls  of  the  freeman.  What  but  love  binds  the 
citizens  of  States  together,  and  frames  and  heeds  the  laws  that 
submit  individual  liberty  to  the  rule  of  the  common  good? 
Love  creates,  love  cements,  love  enters  and  harmonizes  all 
things.  And  as  like  attracts  like,  so  love  attracts  in  the 
hereafter  the  loving  souls  that  conceived  it  here.  From  the 
region  where  it  summons  them,  its  opposites  are  excluded. 
There  ceases  warj  there  ceases  pain.     There  indeed  inter- 


300  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

mingle  the  beautiful  and  glorious,  but  beauty  purified  from, 
earthly  sin,  the  glorious  resting  from  earthly  toil.  Ask  ye 
how  to  know  on  earth  where  love  is  really  presiding?  Not  in 
Paphos,  not  in  Amathus.  Wherever  thou  seest  beauty  and 
good,  wherever  thou  seest  life,  and  that  life  pervaded  with 
faculties  of  joy,  there  thou  seest  love,  there  thou  shouldst 
recognize  the  Divinity." 

"And  where  I  see  misery  and  hate,'*  said  the  Spartan, 
"what  should  I  recognize  there?" 

"Master,"  returned  the  singer,  "can  the  good  come  without 
a  struggle?  Is  the  beautiful  accomplished  without  strife? 
Kecall  the  tales  of  primeval  cliaos,  when,  as  sang  the  Ascraean 
singer,  love  first  darted  into  the  midst;  imagine  the  heave  and 
throe  of  joining  elements ;  conjure  up  the  first  living  shapes, 
born  of  the  fluctuating  slime  and  vapour.  Surely  they  were 
things  incomplete,  deformed,  ghastly  fragments  of  being,  as 
are  the  dreams  of  a  maniac.  Had  creative  Love  stopped 
there,  and  then,  standing  on  the  height  of  some  fair  com- 
pleted world,  had  viewed  the  warring  portents,  wouldst  thou 
not  have  said :  '  But  these  are  the  works  of  Evil  and  Hate  '  ? 
Love  did  not  stop  there,  it  worked  on;  and  out  of  the  chaos, 
once  ensouled,  this  glorious  world  swung  itself  into  ether,  the 
completed  sister  of  the  stars.  Again,  0  my  listeners,  con- 
template the  sculptor  when  the  block  from  the  granite  shaft 
first  stands,  rude  and  shapeless,  before  him.  See  him  in  his 
earlier  strife  with  the  obstinate  matter, — how  uncouth  the 
first  outline  of  limb  and  feature;  unlovelier  often  in  the 
rugged  commencements  of  shape,  than  when  the  dumb  mass 
stood  shapeless.  If  the  sculptor  had  stopped  there,  the  thing 
might  serve  as  an  image  for  the  savage  of  an  abominable 
creed,  engaged  in  the  sacrifice  of  human  flesh.  But  he  pauses 
not,  he  works  on.  Stroke  by  stroke  comes  from  the  stone  a 
shape  of  more  beauty  than  man  himself  is  endowed  with,  and 
in  a  human  temple  stands  a  celestial  image. 

"  Thus  is  it  with  the  soul  in  the  mundane  sphere :  it  works 
its  way  on  through  the  adverse  matter.  We  see  its  work  half 
completed;  we  cry,  '  Lo,  this  is  misery,  this  is  hate! '  because 
the  chaos  is  not  yet  a  perfected  world,  and  the  stone  block  is 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  301 

not  yet  a  statue  of  Apollo.  But  for  that  reason  must  we 
pause?  No,  we  must  work  on,  till  the  victory  brings  the 
repose. 

"All  things  come  into  order  from  the  war  of  contraries,  — 
the  elements  fight  and  wrestle  to  produce  the  wild-flower  at 
our  feet;  from  a  wild-flower  man  hath  striven  and  toiled  to 
perfect  the  marvellous  rose  of  the  hundred  leaves.  Hate  is 
necessary  for  the  energies  of  love,  evil  for  the  activity  of 
good,  until,  I  say,  the  victory  is  won,  until  Hate  and  Evil 
are  subdued,  as  the  sculptor  subdues  the  stone ;  and  then  rises 
the  divine  image,  serene  forever,  and  rests  on  its  pedestal  in 
the  Uranian  Temple.  Lift  thine  eyes,  — that  temple  is  yon- 
der.    0  Pausanias,  the  sculptor's  workroom  is  the  earth." 

Alcman  paused,  and  sweeping  his  hand  once  more  over  his 
lyre,  chanted  as  follows :  — 

"  Dewdrop  that  weepest  on  the  sharp-barbed  thorn, 
Why  didst  thou  fall  from  Day's  golden  chalices  1 

*  My  tears  bathe  the  thorn,'  said  the  Dewdrop, 
'  To  nourish  the  bloom  of  the  rose.* 

"  Soul  of  the  Infant,  why  to  calamity 
Comest  thou,  wailing,  from  the  calm  spirit-source  ? 
'  Ask  of  the  Dew,'  said  the  Infant, 

*  Why  it  descends  on  the  thorn.' 

"  Dewdrop  from  storm,  and  soul  from  calamity 
Vanish  soon,  —  whither  ?    Let  the  Dew  answer  thee ; 

*  Have  not  my  tears  been  my  glory  ? 
Tears  drew  me  up  to  the  sun.' 

"  What  were  thine  uses,  that  thou  art  glorified  ? 
What  did  thy  tears  give,  profiting  earth  or  sky  1 

*  There,  to  the  thorn-stem  a  blossom, 
Here,  to  the  Iris  a  tint.'  " 

Alcman  had  modulated  the  tones  of  his  voice  into  a  sweet- 
ness so  plaintive  and  touching  that  when  he  paused,  the  hand- 
maidens had  involuntarily  risen  and  gathered  round,  hushed 
and  noiseless.  Cleonice  had  lowered  her  veil  over  her  face 
and  bosom;  but  the  heaving  of  its  tissue  betrayed  her  half - 
suppressed,  gentle  sob,  and  the  proud  mournfulness  on  the 


302  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

Spartan's  swarthy  countenance  had  given  way  to  a  soft  com- 
posure, melancholy  still,  but  melancholy  as  a  lulled,  though 
dark  water  over  which  starlight  steals  through  disparted 
cloud. 

Cleonice  was  the  first  to  break  the  spell  which  bound  them 
all. 

"I  would  go  within,"  she  murmured  faintly.  "The  sun, 
now  slanting,  strikes  through  the  vine-leaves,  and  blinds  me 
with  its  glare." 

Pausanias  approached  timidly,  and  taking  her  by  the  hand, 
drew  her  aside  along  one  of  the  grassy  alleys  that  stretched 
onwards  to  the  sea. 

The  handmaidens  tarried  behind  to  cluster  nearer  round  the 
singer;  they  forgot  he  was  a  slave. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"Thou  art  weeping  still,  Cleonice,"  said  the  Spartan,  "and 
I  have  not  the  privilege  to  kiss  away  thy  tears." 

"Nay,  I  weep  not,"  answered  the  girl,  throwing  up  her 
veil ;  and  her  face  was  calm,  if  still  sad,  the  tear  yet  on  the 
eyelids,  but  the  smile  upon  the  lip,  —  SaKpvoev  yeXdoLcra.  "  Thy 
singer  has  learned  his  art  from  a  teacher  heavenlier  than  the 
Pierides,  and  its  name  is  Hope." 

"But  if  I  understand  him  aright,"  said  Pausanias,  "the 
Hope  that  inspires  him  is  a  goddess  who  blesses  us  little  on 
the  earth." 

As  if  the  Mothon  had  overheard  the  Spartan,  his  voice  here 
suddenly  rose  behind  them,  singing,  — 

"  There  the  Beautiful  and  Glorious 
Intermingle  evermore." 

Involuntarily  both  turned.  The  Mothon  seemed  as  if 
explaining  to  the  handmaids  the  allegory  of  his  marriage 
song  upon  Helen  and  Achilles,  for  his  hand  was  raised  on 
high,  and  again  with  an  emphasis,  he  chanted,  — 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  803 

"  There,  thjoughout  the  Blessed  Islands, 
And  amid  the  Race  of  Light, 
Do  the  Beautiful  and  Glorious 
Intermingle  evermore." 

"Canst  thou  not  wait,  if  thou  so  lovest  me?"  said  Cleonice, 
with  more  tenderness  in  her  voice  than  it  had  ever  yet  be- 
trayed to  him.  "  Life  is  very  short.  Hush !  "  she  continued, 
checking  the  passionate  interruption  that  burst  from  his  lips ; 
"I  have  something  I  would  confide  to  thee:  listen.  Know 
that  in  my  childhood  I  had  a  dear  friend,  a  maiden  a  few 
years  older  than  myself,  and  she  had  the  divine  gift  of  trance, 
which  comes  from  Apollo.  Often,  gazing  into  space,  her  eyes 
became  fixed,  and  her  frame  still  as  a  statue's ;  then  a  shiver 
seized  her  limbs,  and  prophecy  broke  from  her  lips.  And  she 
told  me,  in  one  of  these  hours,  when,  as  she  said,  *  all  space 
and  all  time  seemed  spread  before  her  like  a  sunlit  ocean,' 
she  told  me  of  my  future,  so  far  as  its  leaves  have  yet  unfolded 
from  the  stem  of  my  life.  Spartan,  she  prophesied  that  I 
should  see  thee,  and  — "  Cleonice  paused,  blushing,  and  then 
hurried  on,  "  and  she  told  me  that  suddenly  her  eye  could  fol- 
low my  fate  on  the  earth  no  more,  that  it  vanished  out  of  the 
time  and  the  space  on  which  it  gazed,  and  saying  it  she  wept, 
and  broke  into  funeral  song.  And  therefore,  Pausanias,  I  say 
life  is  very  short,  for  me,  at  least  —  " 

"  Hold ! "  cried  Pausanias ;  "  torture  not  me,  nor  delude 
thyself  with  the  dreams  of  a  raving  girl.  Lives  she  near? 
Let  me  visit  her  with  thee,  and  I  will  prove  thy  prophetess 
an  impostor." 

"  They  whom  the  priesthood  of  Delphi  employ  throughout 
Hellas  to  find  the  fit  natures  for  a  Pythoness  heard  of  her, 
and  heard  herself.  She  whom  thou  callest  impostor  gives  the 
answer  to  perplexed  nations  from  the  Pythian  shrine.  But 
wherefore  doubt  her?  Where  the  sorrow?  I  feel  none.  If 
love  does  rule  the  worlds  beyond,  and  does  unite  souls  who 
love  nobly  here,  yonder  we  shall  meet,  0  descendant  of  Her- 
cules, and  human  laws  will  not  part  us  there." 

"  Thou  die,  die  before  me,  —  thou,  scarcely  half  my  years ! 
And  I  be  left  here,  with  no  comfort  but  a  singer's  dreamy 


304  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

verse,  not  even  mine  ambition !  Thrones  would  vanish,  out  of 
earth  and  turn  to  cinders  in  thine  urn." 

"Speak  not  of  thrones,"  said  Cleonice,  with  imploring 
softness,  "for  the  prophetess,  too,  spake  of  steps  that  went 
towards  a  throne,  and  vanished  at  the  threshold  of  darkness, 
beside  which  sat  the  Furies.  Speak  not  of  thrones,  dream 
but  of  glory  and  Hellas,  —  of  what  thy  soul  tells  thee  is  that 
virtue  which  makes  life  an  Uranian  music,  and  thus  unites 
it  to  the  eternal  symphony,  as  the  breath  of  the  single  flute 
melts  when  it  parts  from  the  instrument  into  the  great  concord 
of  the  choir.  Knowest  thou  not  that  in  the  creed  of  the  Per- 
sians each  mortal  is  watched  on  earth  by  a  good  spirit  and  an 
evil  one?  And  they  who  loved  us  below,  or  to  whom  we 
have  done  beneficent  and  gentle  deeds,  if  they  go  before  us 
into  death,  pass  to  the  side  of  the  good  spirit,  and  strengthen 
him  to  save  and  to  bless  thee  against  the  malice  of  the  bad; 
and  the  bad  is  strengthened  in  his  turn  by  those  whom  we 
have  injured.  Wouldst  thou  have  all  the  Greeks  whose  birth- 
right thou  wouldst  barter,  whose  blood  thou  wouldst  shed  for 
barbaric  aid  to  thy  solitary  and  lawless  power,  stand  by  the 
side  of  the  evil  Fiend?  And  what  could  I  do  against  so 
many?  What  could  my  soul  do,"  added  Cleonice,  with  simple 
pathos,  "by  the  side  of  the  kinder  spirit?" 

Pausanias  was  wholly  subdued.  He  knelt  to  the  girl,  he 
kissed  the  hem  of  her  robe,  and  for  the  moment  ambition, 
luxury,  pomp,  pride  fled  from  his  soul,  and  left  there  only  the 
grateful  tenderness  of  the  man,  and  the  lofty  instincts  of  the 
hero.  But  just  then  —  was  it  the  evil  spirit  that  sent  him? 
—  the  boughs  of  the  vine  were  put  aside,  and  Gongylus  the 
Eretrian  stood  before  them.  His  black  eyes  glittered  keen  upon 
Pausanias,  who  rose  from  his  knee,  startled  and  displeased. 

"What  brings  thee  hither,  man?"  said  the  regent, 
haughtily. 

"Danger,"  answered  Gongylus,  in  a  hissing  whisper. 
"Lose  not  a  moment;   come." 

"Danger!"  exclaimed  Cleonice,  tremblingly,  and  clasping 
her  hands,  and  all  the  human  love  at  her  heart  was  visible  in 
her  aspect,  "  danger,  and  to  him  !  " 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  805 

"Danger  is  but  as  tlie  breeze  of  my  native  air,"  said  the 
Spartan,  smiling;  "thus  I  draw  it  in  and  thus  breathe  it 
away.  I  follow  thee,  Gongylus.  Take  my  greeting,  Cleo- 
nice,  —  the  Good  to  the  Beautiful.  Well,  then,  keep  Alcman 
yet  a  while  to  sing  thy  kind  face  to  repose,  and  this  time  let 
him  tune  his  lyre  to  songs  of  a  more  Dorian  strain,  —  songs 
that  show  what  a  Heracleid  thinks  of  danger."  - 

He  waved  his  hand,  and  the  two  men,  striding  hastily, 
passed  along  the  vine  alley,  darkened  its  vista  for  a  few  min- 
utes, then  vanishing  down  the  descent  to  the  beach,  the  wide 
blue  sea  again  lay  lone  and  still  before  the  eyes  of  the  Byzan- 
tine maid. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Pausanias  and  the  Eretrian  halted  on  the  shore. 

"Now  speak,"  said  the  Spartan  regent.  "Where  is  the 
danger? " 

"Before  thee,"  answered  Gongylus,  and  his  hand  pointed 
to  the  ocean. 

"I  see  the  fleet  of  the  Greeks  in  the  harbour,  I  see  the 
flag  of  my  galley  above  the  forest  of  their  masts.  I  see  de- 
tached vessels  skimming  along  the  waves  hither  and  thither 
as  in  holiday  and  sport ;  but  discipline  slackens  where  no  foe 
dares  to  show  himself.     Eretrian,  I  see  no  danger." 

"Yet  danger  is  there,  and  where  danger  is,  thou  shouldst 
be.  I  have  learned  from  my  spies,  not  an  hour  since,  that 
there  is  a  conspiracy  formed,  —  a  mutiny  on  the  eve  of  an 
outburst.     Thy  place  now  should  be  in  thy  galley." 

"My  boat  waits  yonder  in  that  creek,  overspread  by  the 
wild  shrubs,"  answered  Pausanias;  "a  few  strokes  of  the  oar, 
and  I  am  where  thou  seest.  And  in  truth,  without  thy  sum- 
mons, I  should  have  been  on  board  ere  sunset,  seeing  that  on 
the  morrow  I  have  ordered  a  general  review  of  the  vessels  of 
the  fleet.     Was  that  to  be  the  occasion  for  the  mutiny?  " 

"So  it  is  supposed." 

20 


306  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN. 

"I  shall  see  the  faces  of  the  mutineers/'  said  Pausanias, 
with  a  calm  visage,  and  an  eye  which  seemed  to  brighten  the 
very  atmosphere.     " Thou  shakest  thy  head :  is  this  all?" 

"  Thou  art  not  a  bird,  —  this  moment  in  one  place,  that 
moment  in  another.  There,  with  yon  armament,  is  the  dan- 
ger thou  canst  meet.  But  yonder  sails  a  danger  which  thou 
canst  not,  I  fear  me,  overtake." 

"Yonder!"  said  Pausanias,  his  eye  following  the  hand  of 
the  Eretrian.  "I  see  nought  save  the  white  wing  of  a  sea- 
gull,—  perchance,  by  its  dip  into  the  water,  it  foretells  a 
storm." 

"Farther  off  than  the  seagull,  and  seeming  smaller  than 
the  white  spot  of  its  wing,  sees  thou  nothing?" 

"A  dim  speck  on  the  farthest  horizon,  if  mine  eyes  mis- 
take not." 

"  The  speck  of  a  sail  that  is  bound  to  Sparta.  It  carries 
with  it  a  request  for  thy  recall." 

This  time  the  cheek  of  Pausanias  paled,  and  his  voice 
slightly  faltered  as  he  said,  — 

"Art  thou  sure  of  this?" 

"  So  I  hear  that  the  Samian  captain,  Uliades,  has  boasted  at 
noon  in  the  public  baths." 

"A  Samian!  Is  it  only  a  Samian  who  hath  ventured  to 
address  to  Sparta  a  complaint  of  her  general?  " 

"  From  what  I  could  gather, "  replied  Gongylus,  "  the  com- 
plaint is  more  powerfully  backed.  But  I  have  not  as  yet 
heard  more;  though  I  conjecture  that  Athens  has  not  been 
silent,  and  before  the  vessel  sailed,  Ionian  captains  were  seen 
to  come  with  joyous  faces  from  the  lodgings  of  Cimon." 

The  regent's  brow  grew  yet  more  troubled.  "  Cimon,  of  all 
the  Greeks  out  of  Laconia,  is  the  one  whose  word  would  weigh 
most  in  Sparta.  But  my  Spartans  themselves  are  not  sus- 
pected of  privity  and  connivance  in  this  mission?  " 

"It  is  not  said  that  they  are." 

Pausanias  shaded  his  face  with  his  hand  for  a  moment  in 
deep  thought.     Gongylus  continued,  — 

"  If  the  ephors  recall  thee  before  the  Asian  army  is  on  the 
frontier,  farewell  to  the  sovereignty  of  Hellas ! " 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  307 

"Ha!"  cried  Pausanias,  "tempt  me  not.  Thinkest  thou  I 
need  other  tempter  than  I  have  here?"  smiting  his  breast. 

Gongylus  recoiled  in  surprise.  "Pardon  me,  Pausanias, 
but  temptation  is  another  word  for  hesitation.  I  dreamed  not 
that  I  could  tempt;  I  did  not  know  that  thou  didst  hesitate." 

The  Spartan  remained  silent. 

"Are  not  thy  messengers  on  the  road  to  the  Great  King? 
Nay,  perhaps  already  they  have  reached  him.  Didst  thou  not 
say  how  intolerable  to  thee  would  be  life  henceforth  in  the 
iron  thraldom  of  Sparta,  — and  now?" 

"  And  now  —  I  forbid  thee  to  question  me  more.  Thou  hast 
performed  thy  task,  leave  me  to  mine." 

He  sprang  with  the  spring  of  the  mountain-goat  from  the 
crag  on  which  he  stood,  over  a  precipitous  chasm,  lighted  on  a 
narrow  ledge  from  which  a  slip  of  the  foot  would  have  been 
sure  death,  another  bound  yet  more  fearful,  and  his  whole 
weight  hung  suspended  by  the  bough  of  the  ilex,  which  he 
grasped  with  a  single  hand;  then  from  bough  to  bough,  from 
crag  to  crag,  the  Eretrian  saw  him  descending  till  he  vanished 
amidst  the  trees  that  darkened  over  the  fissures  at  the  foot  of 
the  cliff. 

And  before  Gongylus  had  recovered  his  amaze  at  the  almost 
preterhuman  agility  and  vigour  of  the  Spartan,  and  his  dizzy 
sense  at  the  contemplation  of  such  peril  braved  by  another, 
a  boat  shot  into  the  sea  from  the  green  creek,  and  he  saw 
Pausanias  seated  beside  Lysander  on  one  of  the  benches,  and 
conversing  with  him,  as  if  in  calm  earnestness,  while  the  ten 
rowers  sent  the  boat  towards  the  fleet  with  the  swiftness  of 
an  arrow  to  its  goal. 

"Lysander,"  said  Pausanias,  "hast  thou  heard  that  the 
lonians  have  offered  to  me  the  insult  of  a  mission  to  the 
ephors  demanding  my  recall?" 

"No.     Who  would  tell  me  of  insult  to  thee?" 

"But  hast  thou  any  conjecture  that  other  Spartans  around 
me,  and  who  love  me  less  than  thou,  would  approve,  nay, 
have  approved,  this  embassy  of  spies  and  malcontents?" 

"I  think  none  have  so  approved.  I  fear  some  would  so 
approve.     The  Spartans  round  thee  would  rejoice  did  they 


308  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

know  that  the  pride  of  their  armies,  the  victor  of  Plataea, 
were  once  more  within  their  walls." 

"Even  to  the  danger  of  Hellas  from  the  Mede?" 

"  They  would  rather  all  Hellas  were  medized  than  Pausanias 
the  Heracleid." 

"Boy,  boy,"  said  Pausanias,  between  his  ground  teeth, 
"dost  thou  not  see  that  what  is  sought  is  the  disgrace  of 
Pausanias  the  Heracleid?  Grant  that  I  am  recalled  from  the 
head  of  this  armament,  and  on  the  charge  of  lonians,  and  I 
am  dishonoured  in  the  eyes  of  all  Greece.  Dost  thou  remem- 
ber in  the  last  Olympiad  that  when  Themistocles,  the  only 
rival  now  to  me  in  glory,  appeared  on  the  Altis,  assembled 
Greece  rose  to  greet  and  do  him  honour?  And  if  I,  deposed, 
dismissed,  appeared  at  the  next  Olympiad,  how  would  assem- 
bled Greece  receive  me?  Couldst  thou  not  see  the  pointed 
finger  and  hear  the  muttered  taunt,  —  *  That  is  Pausanias, 
whom  the  lonians  banished  from  Byzantium.'  No,  I  must 
abide  here;  I  must  prosecute  the  vast  plans  which  shall 
dwarf  into  shadow  the  petty  genius  of  Themistocles.  I  must 
counteract  this  mischievous  embassy  to  the  ephors;  I  must 
send  to  them  an  ambassador  of  my  own.  Lysander,  wilt  thou 
go,  and  burying  in  thy  bosom  thine  own  Spartan  prejudices, 
deem  that  thou  canst  only  serve  me  by  proving  the  reasons 
why  I  should  remain  here,  pleading  for  me,  arguing  for  me, 
and  winning  my  suit?  " 

"It  is  for  thee  to  command,  and  for  me  to  obey  thee," 
answered  Lysander,  simply.  "  Is  not  that  the  duty  of  soldier 
to  chief?  When  we  converse  as  friends,  I  may  contend  with 
thee  in  speech.  When  thou  sayest,  *  Do  this, '  I  execute  thine 
action.     To  reason  with  thee  would  be  revolt." 

Pausanias  placed  his  clasped  hands  on  the  young  man's 
shoulder,  and  leaving  them  there,  impressively  said,  — 

"I  select  thee  for  this  mission  because  thee  alone  can  I 
trust.     And  of  me  hast  thou  a  doubt?    Tell  me." 

"  If  I  saw  thee  taking  the  Persian  gold,  I  should  say  that 
the  Demon  had  mocked  mine  eyes  with  a  delusion.  Never 
could  I  doubt,  unless  —  unless  —  " 

"Unless  what?" 


PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN.  309 

"  Thou  wert  standing  under  Jove's  sky  against  the  arms  of 
Hellas.'' 

"  And  then,  if  some  other  chief  bade  thee  raise  thy  sword 
against  me,  thou  art  Spartan,  and  wouldst  obey?" 

"  I  am  Spartan,  and  cannot  believe  that  I  should  ever  have 
a  cause,  or  listen  to  a  command,  to  raise  my  sword  against  the 
chief  I  now  serve  and  love,"  replied  Lysander. 

Pausanias  withdrew  his  hands  from  the  young  man's  broad 
shoulder.  He  felt  humbled  beside  the  quiet  truth  of  that 
sublime  soul;  his  own  deceit  became  more  black  to  his  con- 
science. "Methinks,"  he  said  tremulously,  "I  will  not  send 
thee  after  all;  and  perhaps  the  news  may  be  false." 

The  boat  had  now  gained  the  fleet,  and  steering  amidst  the 
crowded  triremes,  made  its  way  towards  the  floating  banner  of 
the  Spartan  Serpent.  More  immediately  round  the  general's 
galley  were  the  vessels  of  the  Peloponnesian  allies,  by  whom 
he  was  still  honoured.  A  welcoming  shout  rose  from  the 
seamen  lounging  on  their  decks  as  they  caught  sight  of  the 
renowned  Heracleid.  Cimon,  who  was  on  his  own  galley  at 
some  distance,  heard  the  shout. 

"So  Pausanias,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  officers  round  him, 
"has  deigned  .to  come  on  board,  to  direct,  I  suppose,  the 
manoeuvres  for  to-morrow." 

"I  believe  it  is  but  the  form  of  a  review  for  manoeuvres," 
said  an  Athenian  officer,  "in  which  Pausanias  will  inspect 
the  various  divisions  of  the  fleet,  and  if  more  be  intended, 
will  give  the  requisite  orders  for  a  subsequent  day.  No 
arrangements  demanding  much  preparation  can  be  antici- 
pated, for  Antagoras,  the  rich  Chian,  gives  a  great  banquet 
this  day,  — a  supper  to  the  principal  captains  of  the  Isles." 

"A  frank  and  hospitable  reveller  is  Antagoras,"  answered 
Cimon.  "He  would  have  extended  his  invitation  to  the 
Athenians,  me  included,  but  in  their  name  I  declined." 

"May  I  ask  wherefore?"  said  the  officer  who  had  before 
spoken.  "  Cimon  is  not  held  adverse  to  wine-cup  and  myrtle- 
bough." 

"But  things  are  said  over  some  wine-cups  and  under  some 
myrtle-boughs,"  answered  Cimon,  with  a  quiet  laugh,  "which 


310  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

it  is  imprudence  to  hear,  and  would  be  treason  to  repeat.  Sup 
with  me  here  on  deck,  friends,  —  a  supper  for  sober  compan- 
ions, sober  as  the  Laconian  Syssitia;  and  let  not  Spartans  say- 
that  our  manners  are  spoiled  by  the  luxuries  of  Byzantium." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

In  an  immense  peristyle  of  a  house  which  a  Byzantine 
noble,  ruined  by  lavish  extravagance,  had  been  glad  to  cede 
to  the  accommodation  of  Antagoras  and  other  officers  of  Chios, 
the  young  rival  of  Pausanias  feasted  the  chiefs  of  the  ^Egean. 
However  modern  civilization  may  in  some  things  surpass  the 
ancient,  it  is  certainly  not  in  luxury  and  splendour.  And 
although  the  Hellenic  States  had  not  at  that  period  aimed  at 
the  pomp  of  show  and  the  refinements  of  voluptuous  pleasure 
which  preceded  their  decline,  and  although  they  never  did 
carry  luxury  to  the  wondrous  extent  which  it  reached  in  Asia, 
or  even  in  Sicily,  yet  even  at  that  time  a  wealthy  sojourner  in 
such  a  city  as  Byzantium  could  command  an  entertainment  that 
no  monarch  in  our  age  would  venture  to  parade  before  royal 
guests,  and  submit  to  the  criticism  of  tax-paying  subjects. 

The  columns  of  the  peristyle  were  of  dazzling  alabaster, 
with  their  capitals  richly  gilt.  The  space  above  was  roof- 
less; but  an  immense  awning  of  purple,  richly  embroidered 
in  Persian  looms,  —  a  spoil  of  some  gorgeous  Mede,  —  shaded 
the  feasters  from  the  summer  sky.  The  couches  on  which  the 
banqueters  reclined  were  of  citron  wood  inlaid  with  ivory,  and 
covered  with  the  tapestries  of  Asiatic  looms.  At  the  four 
corners  of  the  vast  hall  played  four  fountains,  and  their  spray 
sparkled  to  a  blaze  of  light  from  colossal  candelabra,  in  which 
burned  perfumed  oil.  The  guests  were  not  assembled  at  a 
single  table,  but  in  small  groups ;  to  each  group  its  tripod  of 
exquisite  workmanship.  To  that  feast  of  fifty  revellers  no 
less  than  seventy  cooks  had  contributed  the  inventions  of 
their  art,  but  under  one  great  master,  to  whose  care  the  ban- 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  311 

quet  had  been  consigned  by  the  liberal  host,  and  who  ran- 
sacked earth,  sky,  and  sea  for  dainties  more  various  than  this 
degenerate  age  ever  sees  accumulated  at  a  single  board.  And 
the  epicure  who  has  but  glanced  over  the  elaborate  page  of 
Athenseus  must  own  with  melancholy  self-humiliation  that  the 
ancients  must  have  carried  the  art  of  flattering  the  palate  to  a 
perfection  as  absolute  as  the  art  which  built  the  Parthenon, 
and  sculptured  out  of  gold  and  ivory  the  Olympian  Jove. 
But  the  first  course,  with  its  profusion  of  birds,  flesh,  and 
fishes,  its  marvellous  combinations  of  forced  meats,  and  inven- 
tive poetry  of  sauces,  was  now  over;  and  in  the  interval  pre- 
ceding that  second  course,  in  which  gastronomy  put  forth  its 
most  exquisite  masterpieces,  the  slaves  began  to  remove  the 
tables,  soon  to  be  replaced.  Vessels  of  fragrant  waters,  in 
which  the  banqueters  dipped  their  fingers,  were  handed  round ; 
perfumes  which  the  Byzantine  marts  collected  from  every 
clime,  escaped  from  their  precious  receptacles. 

Then  were  distributed  the  garlands.  With  these  each 
guest  crowned  locks  that  steamed  with  odours,  and  in  them 
were  combined  the  flowers  that  most  charm  the  eye,  with  bud 
or  herb  that  most  guard  from  the  head  the  fumes  of  wine: 
with  hyacinth  and  flax,  with  golden  asphodel  and  silver  lily, 
the  green  of  ivy  and  parsley  leaf  was  thus  entwined;  and 
above  all  the  rose,  said  to  convey  a  delicious  coolness  to  the 
temples  on  which  it  bloomed.  And  now  for  the  first  time 
wine  came  to  heighten  the  spirits  and  test  the  charm  of  the 
garlands.  Each,  as  the  large  goblet  passed  to  him,  poured 
from  the  brim,  before  it  touched  his  lips,  his  libation  to  the 
good  spirit.  And  as  Antagoras,  rising  first,  set  this  pious 
example,  out  from  the  farther  end  of  the  hall,  behind  the 
fountains,  burst  a  concert  of  flutes  and  the  great  Hellenic 
Hymn  of  the  Paean. 

As  this  ceased,  the  fresh  tables  appeared  before  the  ban- 
queters, covered  with  all  the  fruits  in  season,  and  with  those 
triumphs  in  confectionery,  of  which  honey  was  the  main 
ingredient,  that  well  justified  the  favour  in  which  the  Greeks 
held  the  bee. 

Then,  instead  of  the  pure  juice  of  the  grape,  from  which 


312  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN. 

the  libation  had  been  poured,  came  the  wines,  mixed  at  least 
three  parts  with  water,  and  deliciously  cooled. 

Up  again  rose  Antagoras,  and  every  eye  turned  to  him. 

"Companions,"  said  the  young  Chian,  "it  is  not  held  in 
free  States  well  for  a  man  to  seize  by  himself  upon  supreme 
authority.  We  deem  that  a  magistracy  should  only  be  obtained 
by  the  votes  of  others.  Nevertheless,  I  venture  to  think  that 
the  latter  plan  does  not  always  insure  to  us  a  good  master.  I 
believe  it  was  by  election  that  we  Greeks  have  given  to  our- 
selves a  generalissimo,  —  not  contented,  it  is  said,  to  prove 
the  invariable  wisdom  of  that  mode  of  government;  wherefore 
this  seems  an  occasion  to  revive  the  good  custom  of  tyranny. 
And  I  propose  to  do  so  in  my  person  by  proclaiming  myself 
Symposiarch  and  absolute  commander  in  the  commonwealth 
here  assembled.     But  if  ye  prefer  the  chance  of  the  die  —  " 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  the  guests,  almost  universally.  "  Anta- 
gor5,s  the  Symposiarch;  we  submit.     Issue  thy  laws." 

"Hearken,  then,  and  obey.  First,  then,  as  to  the  strength 
of  the  wine.  Behold  the  crater  in  which  there  are  three 
Naiades  to  one  Dionysos.  He  is  a  match  for  them,  — not  for 
more.  No  man  shall  put  into  his  wine  more  water  than  the 
slaves  have  mixed.  Yet  if  any  man  is  so  diffident  of  the  god 
that  he  thinks  three  Naiades  too  much  for  him,  he  may  omit 
one  or  two,  and  let  the  wine  and  the  water  fight  it  out  upon 
equal  terms.  So  much  for  the  quality  of  the  drink.  As  to 
quantity,  it  is  a  question  to  be  deliberated  hereafter.  And 
now  this  cup  to  Zeus  the  Preserver." 

The  toast  went  round. 

"Music,  and  the  music  of  Lydia!  "  then  shouted  Antagoras, 
and  resumed  his  place  on  the  couch  beside  Uliades. 

The  music  proceeded,  the  wines  circled. 

"Friend,"  whispered  Uliades  to  the  host,  "thy  father  left 
thee  wines,  I  know.  But  if  thou  givest  many  banquets  like 
this,  I  doubt  if  thou  wilt  leave  wines  to  thy  son." 

"  I  shall  die  childless,  perhaps, "  answered  the  Chian ;  "  and 
any  friend  will  give  me  enough  to  pay  Charon's  fee  across  the 
Styx." 

"That  is  a  melancholy  reflection,"  said  Uliades,  "and  there 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  313 

is  no  subject  of  talk  that  pleases  me  less  than  that  same  Styx. 
Why  dost  thou  bite  thy  lip  and  choke  the  sigh?  By  the  Gods ! 
art  thou  not  happy?" 

"Happy!"  repeated  Antagoras,  with  a  bitter  smile.  "Oh, 
yes ! " 

"Good!  Cleonice  torments  thee  no  more.  I  myself  have 
gone  through  thy  trials,  —  ay,  and  oftentimes.  Seven  times 
at  Samos,  five  at  Rhodes,  once  at  Miletus,  and  forty-three 
times  at  Corinth,  have  I  been  an  impassioned  and  unsuccess- 
ful lover.     Courage!     I  love  still." 

Antagoras  turned  away.  By  this  time  the  hall  was  yet 
more  crowded,  for  many  not  invited  to  the  supper  came,  as 
was  the  custom  with  the  Greeks,  to  the  Symposium;  but 
these  were  all  of  the  Ionian  race. 

"The  music  is  dull  without  the  dancers,"  cried  the  host. 
"Ho,  there!  the  dancing-girls.  Now  would  I  give  all  the 
rest  of  my  wealth  to  see  among  these  girls  one  face  that  yet 
but  for  a  moment  could  make  me  forget  —  " 

"Forget  what,  or  whom?"  said  Uliades.     "Not  Cleonice?" 

"Man,  man,  wilt  thou  provoke  me  to  strangle  thee?"  mut- 
tered Antagoras. 

Uliades  edged  himself  away. 

"Ungrateful!  "  he  cried.  "What  are  a  hundred  Byzantine 
girls  to  one  tried  male  friend?" 

"I  will  not  be  ungrateful,  Uliades,  if  thou  stand  by  my 
side  against  the  Spartan. " 

"Thou  art,  then,  bent  upon  this  perilous  hazard?" 

"  Bent  on  driving  Pausanias  from  Byzantium  or  into  Hades, 
—  yes." 

"Touch!"  said  Uliades,  holding  out  his  right  hand.  "By 
Cypris,  but  these  girls  dance  like  the  daughters  of  Oceanus ; 
every  step  undulates  as  a  wave." 

Antagoras  motioned  to  his  cup-bearer.  "Tell  the  leader 
of  that  dancing  choir  to  come  hither."  The  cup-bearer 
obeyed. 

A  man  with  a  solemn  air  came  to  the  foot  of  the  Chiangs 
couch,  bowing  low.  He  was  an  Egyptian,  —  one  of  the  mean- 
est castes. 


314  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

"Swarthy  friend,"  said  Antagoras,  "didst  thou  ever  hear 
of  the  Pyrrhic  dance  of  the  Spartans?" 

"Surely;  of  all  dances  am  I  teacher  and  preceptor." 

"Your  girls  know  it,  then?" 

"Somewhat,  from  having  seen  it;  but  not  from  practice. 
'T  is  a  male  dance  and  a  warlike  dance,  O  magnanimous,  but, 
in  this  instance,  untutored,  Chian!  " 

"Hist!  and  listen."  Antagoras  whispered.  The  Egyptian 
nodded  his  head,  returned  to  the  dancing-girls,  and  when  their 
measure  had  ceased,  gathered  them  round  him. 

Antagoras  again  rose. 

"  Companions,  we  are  bound  now  to  do  homage  to  our  mas- 
ters,—  the  pleasant,  affable,  and  familiar  warriors  of  Sparta." 

At  this  the  guests  gave  way  to  their  applauding  laughter. 

"And  therefore  the  delicate  maidens  will  present  to  us  that 
flowing  and  Amathusian  dance  which  the  Graces  taught  to 
Spartan  sinews.     Ho,  there!  begin." 

The  Egyptian  had  by  this  time  told  the  dancers  what  they 
were  expected  to  do;  and  they  came  forward  with  an  affecta- 
tion of  stern  dignity,  the  burlesque  humour  of  which  de- 
lighted all  those  lively  revellers.  And  when,  with  adroit 
mimicry,  their  slight  arms  and  mincing  steps  mocked  that 
grand  and  masculine  measure  so  associated  with  images  of 
Spartan  austerity  and  decorum,  the  exhibition  became  so 
humourously  ludicrous  that  perhaps  a  Spartan  himself  would 
have  been  compelled  to  laugh  at  it.  But  the  merriment  rose 
to  its  height  when  the  Egyptian,  who  had  withdrawn  for  a 
few  minutes,  reappeared  with  a  Median  robe  and  mitred  cap, 
and  calling  out  in  his  barbarous  African  accent,  "  Way  for  the 
conqueror!  "  threw  into  his  mien  and  gestures  all  the  likeness 
to  Pausanias  himself  which  a  practised  mime  and  posture- 
master  could  attain.  The  laughter  of  Antagoras  alone  was 
not  loud,  —  it  was  low  and  sullen,  as  if  sobs  of  rage  were 
stifling  it;  but  his  eye  watched  the  effect  produced,  and  it 
answered  the  end  he  had  in  view. 

As  the  dancers  now,  while  the  laughter  was  at  its  loudest 
roar,  vanished  behind  the  draperies,  the  host  rose,  and  his 
countenance  was  severe  and  grave,  — 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  815 

"Companions,  one  cup  more,  and  let  it  be  to  Harmodius 
and  Aristogiton!  Let  the  song  in  their  honour  come  only 
from  the  lips  of  free  citizens,  of  our  Ionian  comrades. 
Uliades,  begin.  I  pass  to  thee  a  myrtle-bough;  and  under 
it  I  pass  a  sword." 

Then  he  began  the  famous  hymn  ascribed  to  Callistratus, 
commencing  with  a  clear  and  sonorous  voice,  and  the  guests 
repeating  each  stanza  after  him,  with  the  enthusiasm  which 
the  words  usually  produced  among  the  Hellenic  republicans ;  — 

"  I  in  a  myrtle-bough  the  sword  will  carry, 
As  did  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton 
When  they  the  tjTant  slew, 
And  back  to  Athens  gave  her  equal  laws. 

"  Thou  art  in  nowise  dead,  best-loved  Harmodius ; 
Isles  of  the  Blessed  are,  they  say,  thy  dwelling. 
There  swift  Achilles  dwells. 
And  there,  they  say,  with  thee  dwells  Diomed. 

"  I  in  a  myrtle-bough  the  sword  will  carry, 
As  did  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton 
When  to  Athene's  shrine 
They  gave  their  sacrifice,  —  a  tyrant  man. 

"  Ever  on  earth  for  both  of  you  lives  glory, 
O  loved  Harmodius,  loved  Aristogiton ; 
For  ye  the  tyrant  slew, 
And  back  to  Athens  ye  gave  equal  laws." 

When  the  song  had  ceased,  the  dancers,  the  musicians,  the 
attendant  slaves,  had  withdrawn  from  the  hall,  dismissed  by 
a  whispered  order  from  Antagoras. 

He,  now  standing  up,  took  from  his  brows  the  floral  crown, 
and  first  sprinkling  them  with  wine,  replaced  the  flowers  by  a 
wreath  of  poplar.  The  assembly,  a  little  while  before  so 
noisy,  was  hushed  into  attentive  and  earnest  silence.  The 
action  of  Antagoras,  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  the 
exclusion  of  the  slaves,  prepared  all  present  for  something 
more  than  the  convivial  address  of  a  Symposiarch. 

"Men  and  Greeks,"  said  the  Chian,  "on  the  evening  before 


316  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

Teucer  led  his  comrades  in  exile  over  the  wide  waters  to 
found  a  second  Salamis,  he  sprinkled  his  forehead  with 
Lyaean  dews,  being  crowned  with  the  poplar-leaves,  —  em- 
blems of  hardihood  and  contest;  and,  this  done,  he  invited 
his  companions  to  dispel  their  cares  for  the  night,  that  their 
hearts  might  with  more  cheerful  hope  and  bolder  courage 
meet  what  the  morrow  might  bring  to  them  on  the  ocean.  I 
imitate  the  ancient  hero,  in  honour  less  of  him  than  of  the 
name  of  Salamis.  We,  too,  have  a  Salamis  to  remember,  and 
a  second  Salamis  to  found.  Can  ye  forget  that,  had  the  ad- 
vice of  the  Spartan  leader  Eurybiades  been  adopted,  the  vic- 
tory of  Salamis  would  never  have  been  achieved?  He  was 
for  retreat  to  the  Isthmus ;  he  was  for  defending  the  Pelopon- 
nese,  because  in  the  Peloponnesus  was  the  unsocial,  selfish 
Sparta,  and  leaving  the  rest  of  Hellas  to  the  armament  of 
Xerxes.  Themistocles  spoke  against  the  ignoble  counsel ;  the 
Spartan  raised  his  staff  to  strike  him,  —  ye  know  the  Spartan 
manners.  *  Strike  if  you  will,  but  hear  me, '  cried  Themis- 
tocles. He  was  heard,  Xerxes  was  defeated,  and  Hellas 
saved.  I  am  not  Themistocles,  nor  is  there  a  Spartan  staff 
to  silence  free  lips.  But  I  too  say,  *  Hear  me! '  for  a  new 
Salamis  is  to  be  won.  What  was  the  former  Salamis?  The 
victory  that  secured  independence  to  the  Greeks,  and  deliv- 
ered them  from  the  Mede  and  the  medizing  traitors.  Again 
we  must  fight  a  Salamis.  Where,  ye  say,  is  the  Mede?  Not 
at  Byzantium,  it  is  true,  in  person,  but  the  medizing  traitor 
is  here." 

A  profound  sensation  thrilled  through  the  assembly. 

"  Enough  of  humility  do  the  maritime  lonians  practise  when 
they  accept  the  hegemony  of  a  Spartan  landsman ;  enough  of 
submission  do  the  free  citizens  of  Hellas  show  when  they  suf- 
fer the  imperious  Dorian  to  sentence  them  to  punishments 
only  fit  for  slaves.  But  when  the  Spartan  appears  in  the 
robes  of  the  Mede;  when  the  imperious  Dorian  places  in  the 
government  of  a  city,  which  our  joint  arms  now  occupy,  a 
recreant  who  has  changed  an  Eretrian  birthright  for  a  Persian 
satrapy;  when  prisoners,  made  by  the  valour  of  all  Hellas, 
mysteriously  escape  the  care  of  the  Lacedaemonian  who  wears 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  317 

their  garb  and  imitates  their  manners,  —  say,  0  ye  Greeks, 

0  ye  warriors,  if  there  is  no  second  Salamis  to  conquer ! " 
The  animated  words,  and  the  wine  already  drunk,  produced 

on  the  banqueters  an  effect  sudden,  electrical,  universal. 
They  had  come  to  the  hall  gay  revellers;  they  were  prepared 
to  leave  the  hall  stern  conspirators. 

Their  hoarse  murmur  was  as  the  voice  of  the  sea  before  a 
storm. 

Antagoras  surveyed  them  with  a  fierce  joy,  and  with  a 
change  of  tone  thus  continued:  "Ye  understand  me,  ye  know 
already  that  a  delivery  is  to  be  achieved.  I  pass  on ;  I  sub- 
mit to  your  wisdom  the  mode  of  achieving  it.  While  I  speak, 
a  swift-sailing  vessel  bears  to  Sparta  the  complaints  of  my- 
self, of  Uliades,  and  of  many  Ionian  captains  here  present, 
against  the  Spartan  general.  And  although  the  Athenian 
chiefs  decline  to  proffer  complaints  of  their  own,  lest  their 
State,  which  has  risked  so  much  for  the  common  cause,  be 
suspected  of  using  the  admiration  it  excites  for  the  purpose 
of  subserving  its  ambition,  yet  Cimon,  the  young  son  of  the 
great  Miltiades,  who  has  ties  of  friendship  and  hospitality 
with  families  of  high  mark  in  Sparta,  has  been  persuaded  to 
add  to  our  public  statement  a  private  letter  to  the  effect  that, 
speaking  for  himself,  not  in  the  name  of  Athens,  he  deems  our 
complaints  justly  founded,  and  the  recall  of  Pausanias  expe- 
dient for  the  discipline  of  the  armament.  But  can  we  say 
what  effect  this  embassy  may  have  upon  a  sullen  and  haughty 
government;  against,  too,  a  royal  descendant  of  Hercules; 
against  the  general  who  at  Plataea  flattered  Sparta  with  a 
renown  to  which  her  absence  from  Marathon,  and  her  medi- 
tated flight  from  Salamis,  gave  but  disputable  pretensions?" 

"And,"  interrupted  Uliades,  rising,  "and  —  if,  0  Anta- 
goras, I  may  crave  pardon  for  standing  a  moment  between 
thee  and  thy  guests  —  and  this  is  not  all ;  for  even  if  they 
recall  Pausanias,  they  may  send  us  another  general  as  bad, 
and  without  the  fame  which  somewhat  reconciles  our  Ionian 
pride  to  the  hegemony  of  a  Dorian.  Now,  whatever  my  quar- 
rel with  Pausanias  I  am  less  against  a  man  than  a  principle. 

1  am  a  seaman,  and  against  the  principle  of  having  for  the 


318  PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN. 

commander  of  the  Greek  fleet  a  Spartan  who  does  not  know 
how  to  handle  a  sail.  I  am  an  Ionian,  and  against  the  prin- 
ciple of  placing  the  Ionian  race  under  the  imperious  domina- 
tion of  a  Dorian.  Therefore  I  say,  now  is  the  moment  to 
emancipate  our  blood  and  our  ocean,  —  the  one  from  an  alien, 
the  other  from  a  landsman.  And  the  hegemony  of  the  Spar- 
tan should  pass  away." 

Uliades  sat  down  with  an  applause  more  clamorous  than 
had  greeted  the  eloquence  of  Antagoras,  for  the  pride  of  race 
and  of  special  calling  is  ever  more  strong  in  its  impulses  than 
hatred  to  a  single  man.  And  despite  of  all  that  could  be  said 
against  Pausanias,  still  these  warriors  felt  awe  for  his  great- 
ness, and  remembered  that  at  Platsea,  where  all  were  brave, 
he  had  been  proclaimed  the  bravest. 

Antagoras,  with  the  quickness  of  a  republican  Greek  trained 
from  earliest  youth  to  sympathy  with  popular  assemblies,  saw 
that  Uliades  had  touched  the  right  key,  and  swallowed  down 
with  a  passionate  gulp  his  personal  wrath  against  his  rival, 
which  might  otherwise  have  been  carried  too  far,  and  have 
lost  him  the  advantage  he  had  gained. 

"Rightly  and  wisely  speaks  Uliades,"  said  he.  "Our  cause 
is  that  of  our  whole  race ;  and  clear  has  that  true  Samian  made 
it  to  you  all,  O  lonians  and  captains  of  the  seas,  that  we  must 
not  wait  for  the  lordly  answer  Sparta  may  return  to  our  em- 
bassage. Ye  know  that  while  night  lasts,  we  must  return  to 
our  several  vessels;  an  hour  more,  and  we  shall  be  on  deck. 
To-morrow  Pausanias  reviews  the  fleet,  and  we  may  be  some 
days  before  we  return  to  land  and  can  meet  in  concert. 
Whether  to-morrow  or  later  the  occasion  for  action  may  pre- 
sent itself,  is  a  question  I  would  pray  you  to  leave  to  those 
whom  you  intrust  with  the  discretionary  power  to  act." 

"How  act?"  cried  a  Lesbian  officer. 

"Thus  would  I  suggest,"  said  Antagoras,  with  well-dis- 
sembled humility:  "let  the  captains  of  one  or  more  Ionian 
vessels  perform  such  a  deed  of  open!  defiance  against  Pausa- 
nias as  leaves  to  them  no  option  between  death  and  success; 
having  so  done,  hoist  a  signal,  and  sailing  at  once  to  the 
Athenian  ships,  place  themselves  under  the  Athenian  leader; 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  319 

all  tlie  rest  of  the  Ionian  captains  will  then  follow  their  exam- 
ple. And  then,  too  numerous  and  too  powerful  to  be  pun- 
ished for  a  revolt,  we  shall  proclaim  a  revolution,  and  declare 
that  we  will  all  sail  back  to  our  native  havens  unless  we  have 
the  liberty  of  choosing  our  own  hegemon." 

"But,"  said  the  Lesbian  who  had  before  spoken,  "the 
Athenians  as  yet  have  held  back  and  declined  our  overtures, 
and  without  them  we  are  not  strong  enough  to  cope  with  the 
Peloponnesian  allies." 

"  The  Athenians  will  be  compelled  to  protect  the  lonians, 
if  the  lonians  in  sufficient  force  demand  it,"  said  Uliades. 
"  For  as  we  are  nought  without  them,  they  are  nought  without 
us.  Take  the  course  suggested  by  Antagoras:  I  advise  it. 
Ye  know  me,  a  plain  man ;  but  I  speak  not  without  warrant. 
And  before  the  Spartans  can  either  contemptuously  dismiss 
our  embassy  or  send  us  out  another  general,  the  Ionian  will 
be  the  mistress  of  the  Hellenic  seas,  and  Sparta,  the  land  of 
oligarchies,  will  no  more  have  the  power  to  oligarchize  de- 
mocracy. Otherwise,  believe  me,  that  power  she  has  now 
from  her  hegemony,  and  that  power,  whenever  it  suit  her,  she 
will  use." 

Uliades  was  chiefly  popular  in  the  fleet  as  a  rough,  good 
seaman,  as  a  blunt  and  somewhat  vulgar  humourist.  But 
whenever  he  gave  advice,  the  advice  carried  with  it  a  weight 
not  always  bestowed  upon  superior  genius,  because,  from  the 
very  commonness  of  his  nature,  he  reached  at  the  common 
sense  and  the  common  feelings  of  those  whom  he  addressed. 
He  spoke,  in  short,  what  an  ordinary  man  thought  and  felt. 
He  was  a  practical  man,  brave  but  not  over-audacious,  not 
likely  to  run  himself  or  others  into  idle  dangers,  and  when  he 
said  he  had  a  warrant  for  his  advice,  he  was  believed  to  speak 
from  his  knowledge  of  the  course  which  the  Athenian  chiefs, 
Aristides  and  Cimon,  would  pursue  if  the  plan  recommended 
were  actively  executed. 

"I  am  convinced,"  said  the  Lesbian.  "And  since  all  are 
grateful  to  Athens  for  that  final  stand  against  the  Mede  to 
which  all  Greece  owes  her  liberties,  and  since  the  chief  of  her 
armaments  here  is  a  man  of  so  modest  a  virtue  and  so  clement 


320  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

a  justice  as  we  all  acknowledge  in  Aristides,  fitting  is  it  for 
us  lonians  to  constitute  Athens  the  maritime  sovereign  of  our 
race." 

"Are  ye  all  of  that  mind?"  cried  Antagoras,  and  was 
answered  by  the  universal  shout,  "  We  are,  —  all ! "  or  if  the 
shout  was  not  universal,  none  heeded  the  few  whom  fear  or 
prudence  might  keep  silent.  "All  that  remains,  then,  is  to 
appoint  the  captain  who  shall  hazard  the  first  danger  and 
make  the  first  signal.  For  my  part,  as  one  of  the  electors  1 
give  my  vote  for  Uliades,  and  this  is  my  ballot."  He  took 
from  his  temples  the  poplar  wreath,  and  cast  it  into  a  silver 
vase  on  the  tripod  placed  before  him. 

"  Uliades  by  acclamation ! "  cried  several  voices. 

"I  accept,"  said  the  Ionian;  "and  as  Ulysses,  a  prudent 
man,  asked  for  a  colleague  in  enterprises  of  danger,  so  I  ask 
for  a  companion  in  the  hazard  I  undertake,  and  I  select 
Antagoras." 

This  choice  received  the  same  applauding  acquiescence  as 
that  which  had  greeted  the  nomination  of  the  Ionian.  And 
in  the  midst  of  the  applause  was  heard  without  the  sharp, 
shrill  sound  of  the  Phrygian  pipe. 

"Comrades,"  said  Antagoras,  "ye  hear  the  summons  to  our 
ships?  Our  boats  are  waiting  at  the  steps  of  the  quay,  by  the 
Temple  of  Neptune.  Two  sentences  more,  and  then  to  sea. 
First,  silence  and  fidelity  j  the  finger  to  the  lip,  the  right  hand 
raised  to  Zeus  Horkios.  For  a  pledge,  here  is  an  oath.  Sec- 
ondly, be  this  the  signal :  whenever  ye  shall  see  Uliades  and 
myself  steer  our  triremes  out  of  the  line  in  which  they  may 
be  marshalled,  look  forth  and  watch  breathless,  and  the 
instant  you  perceive  that  beside  our  flags  of  Samos  and  Chios 
we  hoist  the  ensign  of  Athens,  draw  off  from  your  stations, 
and  follow  the  wake  of  our  keels,  to  the  Athenian  navy. 
Then,  as  the  Gods  direct  us.  Hark,  a  second  time  shrills 
the  fife." 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  321 


CHAPTER  V. 

At  the  very  hour  when  the  Ionian  captains  were  hurrying 
towards  their  boats,  Pausanias  was  pacing  his  decks  alone, 
w4th  irregular  strides,  and  through  the  cordage  and  the  masts 
the  starshine  came  fitfully  on  his  troubled  features.  Long 
undecided,  he  paused,  as  the  waves  sparkled  to  the  stroke  of 
oars,  and  beheld  the  boats  of  the  feasters  making  towards  the 
division  of  the  fleet  in  which  lay  the  navy  of  the  isles. 
Farther  on,  remote  and  still,  anchored  the  ships  of  Athens. 
He  clenched  his  hand,  and  turned  from  the  sight. 

"To  lose  an  empire,"  he  muttered,  "and  without  a  struggle, 

—  an  empire  over  yon  mutinous  rivals,  over  yon  happy  and 
envied  Athens;  an  empire,  — where  its  limits?  If  Asia  puts 
her  armies  to  my  lead,  why  should  not  Asia  be  hellenized, 
rather  than  Hellas  be  within  the  tribute  of  the  Mede?  Dull, 
dull,  stolid  Sparta,  methinks  I  could  pardon  the  slavery  thou 
inflictest  on  my  life,  didst  thou  but  leave  unshackled  my  intel- 
ligence. But  each  vast  scheme  to  be  thwarted,  every  thought 
for  thine  own  aggrandizement  beyond  thy  barren  rocks  met 
and  inexorably  baffled  by  a  selfish  aphorism,  a  cramping  saw, 

—  *  Sparta  is  wide  enough  for  Spartans.'  *  Ocean  is  the  ele- 
ment of  the  fickle.'  ^  What  matters  the  ascendancy  of 
Athens?  It  does  not  cross  the  Isthmus.'  'Venture  nothing 
where  I  want  nothing.'  Why,  this  is  the  soul's  prison!  Ah, 
had  I  been  born  Athenian,  I  had  never  uttered  a  thought 
against  my  country.  She  and  I  would  have  expanded  and 
aspired  together." 

Thus  arguing  with  himself,  he  at  length  confirmed  his 
resolve,  and  with  a  steadfast  step  entered  his  pavilion. 
There,  not  on  broidered  cushions,  but  by  preference  on  the 
hard  floor,  without  coverlid,  lay  Lysander  calmly  sleeping, 
his  crimson  warlike  cloak,  weather-stained,  partially  wrapped 
around  him;  no  pillow  to  his  head  but  his  own  right  arm. , 

21 


322  PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN. 

By  the  light  of  the  high  lamp  that  stood  within  the  pavil- 
ion, Pausanias  contemplated  the  slumberer. 

"He  says  he  loves  me,  and  yet  can  sleep,"  he  murmured 
bitterly.  Then,  seating  himself  before  a  table,  he  began  to 
write,  with  slowness  and  precision,  whether  as  one  not  accus- 
tomed to  the  task,  or  weighing  every  word. 

When  he  had  concluded,  he  again  turned  his  eyes  to  the 
sleeper.  "How  tranquil!  Was  my  sleep  ever  as  serene?  I 
will  not  disturb  him  to  the  last." 

The  fold  of  the  curtain  was  drawn  aside,  and  Alcman 
entered  noiselessly. 

"Thou  hast  obeyed?"  whispered  Pausanias. 

"Yes;  the  ship  is  ready,  the  wind  favours.  Hast  thou 
decided?  " 

"I  have,"  said  Pausanias,  with  compressed  lips. 

He  rose,  and  touched  Lysander  lightly;  but  the  touch 
sufiB-ced,  the  sleeper  woke  on  the  instant,  casting  aside  slum- 
ber easily  as  a  garment. 

"My  Pausanias,"  said  the  young  Spartan,  "I  am  at  thine 
orders, — shall  I  go?  Alas!  I  read  thine  eye,  and  I  shall 
leave  thee  in  peril." 

"Greater  peril  in  the  council  of  the  ephors  and  in  the 
babbling  lips  of  thp  hoary  Gerontes,  than  amidst  the  meeting 
of  armaments.  Thou  wilt  take  this  letter  to  the  ephors.  I 
have  said  in  it  but  little ;  I  have  said  that  I  confide  my  cause 
to  thee.  Kemember  that  thou  insist  on  the  disgrace  to  me,  — 
the  Heracleid,  and  through  me  to  Sparta,  that  my  recall  would 
occasion;  remember  that  thou  prove  that  my  alleged  harsh- 
ness is  but  necessary  to  the  discipline  that  preserves  armies 
and  to  the  ascendancy  of  Spartan  rule.  And  as  to  the  idle 
tale  of  Persian  prisoners  escaped,  why  thou  knowest  h©w 
even  the  lonians  could  make  nothing  of  that  charge.  Crowd 
all  sail,  strain  every  oar ;  no  ship  in  the  fleet  so  swift  as  that 
which  bears  thee.  I  care  not  for  the  few  hours'  start  the  tale- 
bearers have.  Our  Spartan  forms  are  slow ;  they  can  scarce 
have  an  audience  ere  thou  reach.  The  Gods  speed  and  guard 
thee,  beloved  friend!  With  thee  goes  all  the  future  of 
Pausanias." 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  323 

Lysander  grasped  his  hand  in  a  silence  more  eloquent  than 
words,  and  a  tear  fell  on  that  hand  which  he  clasped.  "  Be 
not  ashamed  of  it,"  he  said  then,  as  he  turned  away,  and, 
wrapping  his  cloak  round  his  face,  left  the  pavilion.  Alcman 
followed,  lowered  a  boat  from  the  side,  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  Spartan  and  the  Mothon  were  on  the  sea.  The  boat  made 
to  a  vessel  close  at  hand,  —  a  vessel  builded  in  Cyprus,  manned 
by  Bithynians;  its  sails  were  all  up,  but  it  bore  no  flag. 
Scarcely  had  Lysander  climbed  the  deck  than  it  heaved  to 
and  fro,  swaying  as  the  anchor  was  drawn  up,  then,  righting 
itself,  sprang  forward  like  a  hound  unleashed  for  the  chase. 
Pausanias  with  folded  arms  stood  on  the  deck  of  his  own  ves- 
sel gazing  after  it,  gazing  long,  till,  shooting  far  beyond  the 
fleet,  far  towards  the  melting  line  between  sea  and  sky,  it 
grew  less  and  lesser,  and  as  the  twilight  dawned,  it  had  faded 
into  space. 

The  Heracleid  turned  to  Alcman,  who,  after  he  had  conveyed 
Lysander  to  the  ship,  had  regained  his  master's  side. 

"What  thinkest  thou,  Alcman,  will  be  the  result  of  all 
this?" 

"  The  emancipation  of  the  Helots,"  said  the  Mothon,  quietly. 
"  The  Athenians  are  too  near  thee,  the  Persians  are  too  far. 
Wouldst  thou  have  armies  Sparta  can  neither  give  nor  take 
away  from  thee,  bind  to  thee  a  race  by  the  strongest  of  human 
ties,  —  make  them  see  in  thy  power  the  necessary  condition  of 
their  freedom." 

Pausanias  made  no  answer.  He  turned  within  his  pavilion, 
and  flinging  himself  down  on  the  same  spot  from  which  he 
had  disturbed  Lysander,  said,  "  Sleep  here  was  so  kind  to  him 
that  it  may  linger  where  he  left  it.  I  have  two  hours  yet  for 
oblivion  before  the  sun  rise." 


324  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPAKTAN. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

If  we  were  enabled  minutely  to  examine  the  mental  organi- 
zation of  men  who  have  risked  great  dangers,  whether  by  the 
impulse  of  virtue  or  in  the  perpetration  of  crime,  we  should 
probably  find  therein  a  large  preponderance  of  hope.  By  that 
preponderance  we  should  account  for  those  heroic  designs 
which  would  annihilate  prudence  as  a  calculator,  did  not  a 
sanguine  confidence  in  the  results  produce  special  energies  to 
achieve  them,  and  thus  create  a  prudence  of  its  own,  being, 
as  it  were,  the  self-conscious  admeasurement  of  the  diviner 
strength  which  justified  the  preterhuman  spring.  Nor  less 
should  we  account  by  the  same  cause  for  that  audacity  which 
startles  us  in  criminals  on  a  colossal  scale,  which  blinds  them 
to  the  risks  of  detection,  and  often  at  the  bar  of  justice,  while 
the  evidences  that  insure  condemnation  are  thickening  round 
them,  with  the  persuasion  of  acquittal  or  escape.  Hope  is 
thus  alike  the  sublime  inspirer  or  the  arch  corrupter,  —  it  is 
the  foe  of  terror,  the  defier  of  consequences,  the  buoyant 
gamester  which  at  every  loss  doubles  the  stakes,  with  a  firm 
hand  rattles  the  dice,  and,  invoking  ruin,  cries  within  itself, 
"How  shall  I  expend  the  gain?" 

In  the  character,  therefore,  of  a  man  like  Pausanias,  risk- 
ing so  much  glory,  daring  so  much  peril,  strong  indeed  must 
have  been  this  sanguine  motive  power  of  human  action.  Nor 
is  a  large  and  active  development  of  hope  incompatible  with  a 
temperament  habitually  grave  and  often  profoundly  melan- 
choly; for  hope  itself  is  often  engendered  by  discontent.  A 
vigorous  nature  keenly  susceptible  to  joy,  and  deprived  of  the 
possession  of  the  joy  it  yearns  for  by  circumstances  that  sur- 
round it  in  the  present,  is  goaded  on  by  its  impatience  and 
dissatisfaction;  it  hopes  for  the  something  it  has  not  got, 
indifferent  to  the  things  it  possesses,  and  saddened  by  the 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  825 

want  whicli  it  experiences.  And  therefore  it  has  been  well 
said  by  philosophers  that  real  happiness  would  exclude  desire  j 
in  other  words,  not  only  at  the  gates  of  hell,  but  at  the  porch 
of  heaven,  he  who  entered  would  leave  hope  behind  him.  For 
perfect  bliss  is  but  supreme  content.  And  if  content  could  say 
to  itself,  "But  I  hope  for  something  more,"  it  would  destroy 
its  own  existence. 

From  his  brief  slumber  the  Spartan  rose  refreshed.  The 
trumpets  were  sounding  near  him,  and  the  very  sound  bright- 
ened his  aspect  and  animated  his  spirits. 

Agreeably  to  orders  he  had  given  the  night  before,  the 
anchor  was  raised,  the  rowers  were  on  their  benches,  the 
libation  to  the  Carnean  Apollo,  under  whose  special  protec- 
tion the  ship  was  placed,  had  been  poured  forth,  and  with  the 
rising  sea  and  to  the  blare  of  trumpets  the  gorgeous  trireme 
moved  forth  from  the  bay. 

It  moved,  as  the  trumpets  ceased,  to  the  note  of  a  sweeter, 
but  not  less  exciting,  music;  for,  according  to  Hellenic  cus- 
tom, to  the  rowers  was  allotted  a  musician,  with  whose  har- 
mony their  oars,  when  first  putting  forth  to  sea,  kept. time. 
And  on  this  occasion  Alcman  superseded  the  wonted  per- 
former by  his  own  more  popular  song  and  the  melody  of  his 
richer  voice.  Standing  by  the  mainmast,  and  holding  the 
large  harp,  which  was  stricken  by  the  quill,  its  strings  being 
deepened  by  a  sounding-board,  he  chanted  an  lo  Paean  to  the 
Dorian  god  of  light  and  poesy.  The  harp  at  stated  intervals 
was  supported  by  a  burst  of  flutes,  and  the  burden  of  the  verse 
was  caught  up  by  the  rowers  as  in  chorus.  Thus,  far  and  wide 
over  the  shining  waves,  went  forth  the  hymn. 

"  lo,  To  Paean !  slowly.    Song  and  oar  mnst  chime  together  ; 
lo,  lo  Pasan !  by  what  title  call  Apollo  ? 
Clarian  ?   Xanthian  ?   Boedromian  ? 
Countless  are  thy  names,  Apollo, 
lo  Camee !   lo  Carnee ! 
By  the  margent  of  Eurotas, 
'Neath  the  shadows  of  Taj'getus, 
Thee  the  sons  of  Lacedaemon 
Name  Carneus.     To,  lo ! 
Id  Camee !  lo  Carnee ! 


326  PAUSAlSriAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

"  lo,  lo  Paean !  quicker.     Song  and  voice  must  chime  together ; 
lo  Paean !  lo  Paean !  King  Apollo,  lo,  lo ! 
lo  Carnee ! 
For  thine  altars  do  the  seasons 
Paint  the  tributary  flowers. 
Spring  thy  hyacinth  restores. 
Summer  greets  thee  with  the  rose, 
Autumn  the  blue  Cyane  mingles 
With  the  coronals  of  corn, 
And  in  every  wreath  thy  laurel 
Weaves  its  everlasting  green. 

lo  Carnee !   lo  Carnee ! 

For  the  brows  Apollo  favours 

Spring  and  winter  does  the  laurel 

Weave  its  everlasting  green. 

"  lo,  lo  Paean !  louder.    Voice  and  oar  must  chime  together ; 
For  the  brows  Apollo  favours 
Even  Ocean  bears  the  laurel. 
lo  Carnee !   lo  Carnee ! 

"  lo,  lo  Paean !  stronger.     Strong  are  those  who  win  the  laurel." 

As  the  ship  of  the  Spartan  commander  thus  bore  out  to  sea, 
the  other  vessels  of  the  armament  had  been  gradually  forming 
themselves  into  a  crescent,  preserving  still  the  order  in  which 
the  allies  maintained  their  several  contributions  to  the  fleet, 
the  Athenian  ships  at  the  extreme  end  occupying  the  right 
wing,  the  Peloponnesians  massed  together  at  the  left. 

The  Chian  galleys  adjoined  the  Samian;  for  Uliades  and 
Antagoras  had  contrived  that  their  ships  should  be  close  to 
each  other,  so  that  they  might  take  counsel  at  any  moment, 
and  act  in  concert. 

And  now,  when  the  fleet  had  thus  opened  its  arms,  as 
it  were,  to  receive  the  commander,  the  great  trireme  of  Pau- 
sanias  began  to  veer  round  and  to  approach  the  half-moon 
of  the  expanded  armament.  On  it  came,  with  its  beaked 
prow,  like  a  falcon  swooping  down  on  some  array  of  the  lesser 
birds. 

From  the  stern  hung  a  gilded  shield  and  a  crimson  pennon. 
The  heavy-armed  soldiers  in  their  Spartan  mail  occupied  the 
centre  of  the  vessel,  and  the  sun  shone  full  upon  their  armour. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  327 

"By  Pallas  the  Guardian,"  said  Cimon,  "it  is  the  Athenian 
vessels  that  the  strategus  honours  with  his  first  visit." 

And  indeed  the  Spartan  galley  now  came  alongside  that  of 
Aristides,  the  admiral  of  the  Athenian  navy. 

The  soldiers  on  board  the  former  gave  way  on  either  side, 
and  a  murmur  of  admiration  circled  through  the  Athenian 
ship  as  Pausanias  suddenly  appeared;  for  as  if  bent  that  day 
on  either  awing  mutiny  or  conciliating  the  discontented,  the 
Spartan  chief  had  wisely  laid  aside  the  wondrous  Median 
robes.  He  stood  on  her  stern  in  the  armour  he  had  worn  at 
Plataea,  resting  one  hand  upon  his  shield,  which  itself  rested 
on  the  deck.  His  head  alone  was  uncovered,  his  long  sable 
locks  gathered  up  into  a  knot,  in  the  Spartan  fashion,  —  a 
crest,  as  it  were,  in  itself  to  that  lofty  head.  And  so  impos- 
ing were  his  whole  air  and  carriage  that  Cimon,  gazing  at 
him,  muttered,  "What  profane  hand  will  dare  to  rob  that 
demigod  of  command?  " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Pausanias  came  on  board  the  vessel  of  the  Athenian 
admiral,  attended  by  the  five  Spartan  chiefs  who  have  been 
mentioned  before  as  the  warlike  companions  assigned  to  him. 
He  relaxed  the  haughty  demeanour  which  had  given  so  much 
displeasure,  adopting  a  tone  of  marked  courtesy.  He  spoke 
with  high  and  merited  praise  of  the  seaman-like  appearance 
of  the  Athenian  crews,  and  the  admirable  build  and  equip- 
ment of  their  vessels. 

"Pity  only,"  said  he,  smiling,  "that  we  have  no  Persians 
on  the  ocean  now,  and  that  instead  of  their  visiting  us  we 
must  go  in  search  of  them." 

"Would  that  be  wise  on  our  part?"  said  Aristides.  "Is 
not  Greece  large  enough  for  Greeks?" 

"Greece  has  not  done  growing,"  answered  the  Spartan; 
"and  the  Gods  forbid  that  she  should  do  so.     When  man 


328  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

ceases  to  grow  in  height,  lie  expands  in  bulk ;  when  he  stops 
there  too,  the  frame  begins  to  stoop,  the  muscles  to  shrink, 
the  skin  to  shrivel,  and  decrepit  old  age  steals  on.  I  have 
heard  it  said  of  the  Athenians  that  they  think  nothing  done 
while  aught  remains  to  do.  Is  it  not  truly  said,  worthy  son 
of  Miltiades?" 

Cimon  bowed  his  head.  "General,  I  cannot  disavow  the 
sentiment.  .But  if  Greece  entered  Asia,  would  it  not  be  as  a 
river  that  runs  into  a  sea?    It  expands,  and  is  merged." 

"  The  river,  Cimon,  may  lose  the  sweetness  of  its  wave  and 
take  the  brine  of  the  sea;  but  the  Greek  can  never  lose  the 
flavour  of  the  Greek  genius,  and  could  he  penetrate  the  uni- 
verse, the  universe  would  be  hellenized.  But  if,  0  Athenian 
chiefs,  ye  judge  that  we  have  now  done  all  that  is  needful  to 
protect  Athens  and  awe  the  Barbarian,  ye  must  be  longing 
to  retire  from  the  armament  and  return  to  your  homes." 

"When  it  is  fit  that  we  should  return,  we  shall  be  recalled," 
said  Aristides,  quietly. 

"What,  is  your  State  so  unerring  in  its  judgment?  Expe- 
rience does  not  permit  me  to  think  so,  for  it  ostracized 
Aristides." 

"An  honour,"  replied  the  Athenian,  "that  I  did  not  de- 
serve, but  an  action  that,  had  I  been  the  adviser  of  those 
who  sent  me  forth,  I  should  have  opposed  as  too  lenient. 
Instead  of  ostracizing  me,  they  should  have  cast  both  myself 
and  Themistocles  into  the  Barathrum." 

"  You  speak  with  true  Attic  honour,  and  I  comprehend  that 
where,  in  commonwealths  constituted  like  yours,  party  runs 
high,  and  the  State  itself  is  shaken,  ostracism  may  be  a  neces- 
sary tribute  to  the  very  virtues  that  attract  the  zeal  of  a  party 
and  imperil  the  equality  ye  so  prize.  But  what  can  compen- 
sate to  a  State  for  the  evil  of  depriving  itself  of  its  greatest 
citizens?" 

"Peace  and  freedom,"  said  Aristides.  "If  you  would  have 
the  young  trees  thrive,  you  must  not  let  one  tree  be  so  large 
as  to  overshadow  them.  Ah,  general  at  Platsea,"  added  the 
Athenian,  in  a  benignant  whisper,  for  the  grand  image  before 
him  moved  his  heart  with  a  mingled  feeling  of  generous  admi- 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  329 

ration  and  prophetic  pity,  "  ah,  pardon  me  if  I  remind  thee  of 
the  ring  of  Polycrates,  and  say  that  Fortune  is  a  queen  that 
requires  tribute.  Man  should  tremble  most  when  most  seem- 
ingly fortune-favoured,  and  guard  most  against  a  fall  when 
his  rise  is  at  the  highest." 

"But  it  is  only  at  its  highest  flight  that  the  eagle  is  safe 
from  the  arrow,"  answered  Pausanias. 

"And  the  nest  the  eagle  has  forgotten  in  her  soaring  is  the 
more  exposed  to  the  spoiler." 

"  Well,  my  nest  is  in  rocky  Sparta ;  hardy  the  spoiler  who 
ventures  thither.  Yet,  to  descend  from  these  speculative 
comparisons,  it  seems  that  thou  hast  a  friendly  and  meaning 
purpose  in  thy  warnings.  Thou  knowest  that  there  are  in 
this  armament  men  who  grudge  to  me  whatever  I  now  owe  to 
Fortune,  who  would  topple  me  from  the  height  to  which  I  did 
not  climb,  but  was  led  by  the  congregated  Greeks,  and  who, 
while  perhaps  they  are  forging  arrow-heads  for  the  eagle,  have 
sent  to  place  poison  and  a  snare  in  its  distant  nest.  So  the 
*  Nausicaa '  is  on  its  voyage  to  Sparta,  conveying  to  the  ephors 
complaints  against  me,  —  complaints  from  men  who  fought  by 
my  side  against  the  Mede." 

"  I  have  heard  that  a  Cyprian  vessel  left  the  fleet  yesterday, 
bound  to  Laconia.  I  have  heard  that  it  does  bear  men  charged 
by  some  of  the  lonians  with  representations  unfavourable  to 
the  continuance  of  thy  command.  It  bears  none  from  me  as 
the  N auarchus  of  the  Athenians ;  but  —  " 

"But  what?" 

"But  I  have  complained  to  thyself,  Pausanias,  in  vain." 

"Hast  thou  complained  of  late  and  in  vain?  " 

"Nay." 

"Honest  men  may  err;  if  they  amend,  do  just  men  con- 
tinue to  accuse-?  " 

"  I  do  not  accuse,  Pausanias,  I  but  imply  that  those  who  do 
may  have  a  cause ;  but  it  will  be  heard  before  a  tribunal  of 
thine  own  countrymen,  and  doubtless  thou  hast  sent  to  the 
tribunal  those  who  may  meet  the  charge  on  thy  behalf." 

"Well,"  said  Pausanias,  still  preserving  his  studied  urban- 
ity and  lofty  smile,  "even  Agamemnon  and  Achilles  quar- 


330  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

relied,  but  Greece  took  Troy  not  the  less.  And  at  least, 
since  Aristides  does  not  denounce  me,  if  I  have  committed 
even  worse  faults  than  Agamemnon,  I  have  not  made  an 
enemy  of  Achilles.  And  if,"  he  added  after  a  pause,  —  "if 
some  of  these  lonians,  not  waiting  for  the  return  of  their 
envoys,  openly  mutiny,  they  must  be  treated  as  Thersites 
was."  Then  he  hurried  on  quickly;  for  observing  that 
Gimon's  brow  lowered,  and  his  lips  quivered,  he  desired  to 
cut  off  all  words  that  might  lead  to  altercation. 

"  But  I  have  a  request  to  ask  of  the  Athenian  Nauarchus. 
Will  you  gratify  myself  and  the  fleet  by  putting  your  Athe- 
nian trireme?  into  play?  Your  seamen  are  so  famous  for  their 
manoeuvres  that  they  might  furnish  us  with  sports  of  more 
grace  and  agility  than  do  the  Lydian  dancers.  Landsman 
though  I  be,  no  sight  more  glads  mine  eye  than  these  sea- 
lions  of  pine  and  brass,  bounding  under  the  yoke  of  their 
tamers.  I  presume  not  to  give  thee  instructions  what  to  per- 
form. Who  can  dictate  to  the  seamen  of  Salamis?  But  when 
your  ships  have  played  out  their  martial  sport,  let  them  ex- 
change stations  with  the  Peloponnesian  vessels,  and  occupy 
for  the  present  the  left  of  the  armament.     Ye  object  not?" 

"  Place  us  where  thou  wilt,  as  was  said  to  thee  at  Platsea, " 
answered  Aristides. 

"I  now  leave  you  to  prepare,  Athenians,  and  greet  you, 
saying,  the  Good  to  the  Beautiful." 

"  A  wondrous  presence  for  a  Greek  commander !  "  said 
Cimon,  as  Pausanias  again  stood  on  the  stern  of  his  own 
vessel,  which  moved  off  towards  the  ships  of  the  islands. 

"And  no  mean  capacity,"  returned  Aristides.  "See  you 
not  his  object  in  transplacing  us?" 

"Ha!  truly;  in  case  of  mutiny  on  board  the  Ionian  ships, 
he  separates  them  from  Athens.  But  woe  to  him  if  he  thinks 
in  his  heart  that  an  Ionian  is  a  Thersites,  to  be  silenced  by 
the  blow  of  a  sceptre.  Meanwhile  let  the  Greeks  see  what 
manner  of  seamen  are  the  Athenians.  Me  thinks  this  game 
ordained  to  us  is  a  contest  before  Neptune,  and  for  a  crown." 

Pausanias  bore  right  on  towards  the  vessels  from  the 
iEgsean  Isles.     Their  masts  and  prows  were  heavy  with  gar- 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  331 

lands,  but  no  music  sounded  from  their  decks,  no  welcoming 
shout  from  their  crews. 

"  Son  of  Cleombrotus, "  said  the  prudent  Erasinidas,  "  sullen 
dogs  bite;  unwise  the  stranger  who  trusts  himself  to  their 
kennel.  Pass  not  to  those  triremes ;  let  the  captains,  if  thou 
wantest  them,  come  to  thee." 

Pausanias  replied:  "Dogs  fear  the  steady  eye,  and  spring 
at  the  recreant  back.  Helmsman,  steer  to  yonder  ship  with 
the  olive-tree  on  the  Parasemon,  and  the  image  of  Bacchus  on 
the  guardian  standard.  It  is  the  ship  of  Antagoras  the  Chian 
captain." 

Pausanias  turned  to  his  warlike  Five.  "  This  time,  forgive 
me;  I  go  alone."  And  before  their  natural  Spartan  slowness 
enabled  them  to  combat  this  resolution,  their  leader  was  by 
the  side  of  his  rival,  alone  in  the  Chian  vessel,  and  surrounded 
by  his  sworn  foes. 

"Antagoras,"  said  the  Spartan,  "a  Chian  seaman's  ship  is 
his  dearest  home.  I  stand  on  thy  deck  as  at  thy  hearth,  and 
ask  thy  hospitality :  a  crust  of  thy  honied  bread,  and  a  cup  of 
thy  Chian  wine.  For  from  thy  ship  I  would  see  the  Athenian 
vessels  go  through  their  nautical  gymnastics." 

The  Chian  turned  pale  and  trembled;  his  vengeance  was 
braved  and  foiled.  He  was  powerless  against  the  man  who 
trusted  to  his  honour,  and  asked  to  break  of  his  bread  and 
drink  of  his  cup.  Pausanias  did  not  appear  to  heed  the 
embarrassment  of  his  unwilling  host,  but  turning  round, 
addressed  some  careless  words  to  the  soldiers  on  the  raised 
central  platform,  and  then  quietly  seated  himself,  directing 
his  eyes  towards  the  Athenian  ships.  Upon  these  all  the 
sails  were  now  lowered.  In  nice  manoeuvres  the  seamen  pre- 
ferred trusting  to  their  oars.  Presently  one  vessel  started 
forth,  and  with  a  swiftness  that  seemed  to  increase  at  every 
stroke. 

A  table  was  brought  upon  deck  and  placed  before  Pausanias, 
and  the  slaves  began  to  serve  to  him  such  light  food  as  sufficed 
to  furnish  the  customary  meal  of  the  Greeks  in  the  earlier 
forenoon. 

"But  where   is  mine  host?"   asked  the  Spartan.     "Does 


832  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

Autagoras  himself  not  deign  to  share  a  meal  with  his 
guest?" 

On  receiving  the  message,  Antagoras  had  no  option  but  to 
come  forward.  The  Spartan  eyed  him  deliberately,  and  the 
young  Chian  felt  with  secret  rage  the  magic  of  that  command- 
ing eye. 

Pausanias  motioned  to  him  to  be  seated,  making  room  beside 
himself.     The  Chian  silently  obeyed. 

"Antagoras,"  said  the  Spartan  in  a  low  voice,  "thou  art 
doubtless  one  of  those  who  have  already  infringed  the  laws  of 
military  discipline  and  obedience.  Interrupt  me  not  yet.  A 
vessel,  without  waiting  my  permission,  has  left  the  fleet  with 
accusations  against  me,  thy  commander;  of  what  nature  I  am 
not  even  advised.  Thou  wilt  scarcely  deny  that  thou  art  one 
of  those  who  sent  forth  the  ship  and  shared  in  the  accusations. 
Yet  I  had  thought  that  if  I  had  ever  merited  thine  ill-will, 
there  had  been  reconciliation  between  us  in  the  Council  Hall. 
What  has  chanced  since?  Why  shouldst  thou  hate  me? 
Speak  frankly;   frankly  have  I  spoken  to  thee." 

"  General, "  replied  Antagoras,  "  there  is  no  hegemony  over 
men's  hearts ;  thou  sayest  truly,  as  man  to  man,  I  hate  thee. 
Wherefore?  Because,  as  man  to  man,  thou  standest  between 
me  and  happiness.  Because  thou  wooest,  and  canst  only  woo  to 
dishonour,  the  virgin  in  whom  I  would  seek  the  sacred  wife." 

Pausanias  slightly  recoiled,  and  the  courtesy  he  had  simu- 
lated, and  which  was  essentially  foreign  to  his  vehement  and 
haughty  character,  fell  from  him  like  a  mask;  for  with  the 
words  of  Antagoras,  jealousy  passed  within  him,  and  for  the 
moment  its  agony  was  such  that  the  Chian  was  avenged.  But 
he  was  too  habituated  to  the  stateliness  of  self-control  to  give 
vent  to  the  rage  that  seized  him.  He  only  said  with  a  whit- 
ened and  writhing  lip,  "Thou  art  right;  all  animosities  may 
yield,  save  those  which  a  woman's  eye  can  kindle.  Thou 
hatest  me,  —be  it  so;  that  is  as  man  to  man.  But  as  officer 
to  chieftain,  I  bid  thee  henceforth  beware  how  thou  givest 
me  cause  to  set  this  foot  on  the  head  that  lifts  itself  to  the 
height  of  mine." 

With  that  he  rose,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  walked  towards 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAK  333 

the  stern,  where  he  stood  apart  gazing  on  the  Athenian  tri- 
remes, which  by  this  time  were  in  the  broad  sea.  And  all 
the  eyes  in  the  fleet  were  turned  towards  that  exhibition;  for 
marvellous  was  the  ease  and  beauty  with  which  these  ships 
went  through  their  nautical  movements :  now  as  in  chase  of 
each  other,  now  approaching  as  in  conflict,  veering  off,  dart- 
ing aside,  threading  as  it  were  a  harmonious  maze,  gliding  in 
and  out,  here,  there,  with  the  undulous  celerity  of  the  serpent. 
The  admirable  build  of  the  ships ;  the  perfect  skill  of  the  sea- 
men; the  noiseless  docility  and  instinctive  comprehension  by 
which  they  seemed  to  seize  and  to  obey  the  unforeseen  signals 
of  their  admiral,  —  all  struck  the  lively  Greeks  that  beheld 
the  display,  and  universal  was  the  thought,  if  not  the  mur- 
mur, "  There  was  the  power  that  should  command  the  Grecian 
seas." 

Pausanias  was  too  much  accustomed  to  the  sway  of  masses 
not  to  have  acquired  that  electric  knowledge  of  what  circles 
amongst  them  from  breast  to  breast,  to  which  habit  gives  the 
quickness  of  an  instinct.  He  saw  that  he  had  committed  an 
imprudence,  and  that  in  seeking  to  divert  a  mutiny,  he  had 
incurred  a  yet  greater  peril. 

He  returned  to  his  own  ship  without  exchanging  another 
word  with  Antagoras,  who  had  retired  to  the  centre  of  the 
vessel,  fearing  to  trust  himself  to  a  premature  utterance  o^ 
that  defiance  which  the  last  warning  of  his  chief  provoked, 
and  who  was  therefore  arousing  the  soldiers  to  louder  shouts 
of  admiration  at  the  Athenian  skill. 

Eowing  back  towards  the  wing  occupied  by  the  Peloponne- 
sian  allies,  of  whose  loyalty  he  was  assured,  Pausanias  then 
summoned  on  board  their  principal  officer,  and  communicated 
to  him  his  policy  of  placing  the  lonians  not  only  apart  from 
the  Athenians,  but  under  the  vigilance  and  control  of  Pelo- 
ponnesian  vessels  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood.  "  There- 
fore," said  he,  "while  the  Athenians  will  occupy  this  wing,  I 
wish  you  to  divide  yourselves :  the  Lacedaemonian  ships  will 
take  the  way  the  Athenians  abandon;  but  the  Corinthian  tri- 
remes will  place  themselves  between  the  ships  of  the  Islands 
and  the  Athenians.     I  shall  give  further  orders  towards  dis- 


334  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN* 

tributing  the  Ionian  navy.  And  thus  I  trust  either  all  chance 
of  a  mutiny  is  cut  off,  or  it  will  be  put  down  at  the  first  out- 
break. Now  give  orders  to  your  men  to  take  the  places  thus 
assigned  to  you.  And  having  gratified  the  vanity  of  our 
friends  the  Athenians  by  their  holiday  evolutions,  I  shall 
send  to  thank  and  release  them  from  the  fatigue  so  gracefully 
borne." 

All  those  with  whom  he  here  conferred,  and  who  had  no 
love  for  Athens  or  Ionia,  readily  fell  into  the  plan  suggested. 
Pausanias  then  despatched  a  Laconian  vessel  to  the  Athenian 
admiral,  with  complimentary  messages  and  orders  to  cease 
the  manoeuvres,  and  then,  heading  the  rest  of  the  Laconian 
contingent,  made  slow  and  stately  way  towards  the  station 
deserted  by  the  Athenians.  But  pausing  once  more  before 
the  vessels  of  the  Isles,  he  despatched  orders  to  their  several 
commanders,  which  had  the  effect  of  dividing  their  array  and 
placing  between  them  the  powerful  Corinthian  service.  In 
the  orders  of  the  vessels  he  forwarded  for  this  change  he  took 
especial  care  to  dislocate  the  dangerous  contiguity  of  the 
Samian  and  Chian  triremes. 

The  sun  was  declining  towards  the  west  when  Pausanias 
had  marshalled  the  vessels  he  headed,  at  their  new  stations, 
and  the  Athenian  ships  were  already  anchored  close  and 
secured.  But  there  was  an  evident  commotion  in  that  part 
of  the  fleet  to  which  the  Corinthian  galleys  had  sailed.  The 
lonians  had  received  with  indignant  murmurs  the  command 
which  divided  their  strength.  Under  various  pretexts  each 
vessel  delayed  to  move ;  and  when  the  Corinthian  ships  came 
to  take  a  vacant  space,  they  found  a  formidable  array,  — the 
soldiers  on  the  platforms  armed  to  the  teeth.  The  confusion 
was  visible  to  the  Spartan  chief;  the  loud  hubbub  almost 
reached  to  his  ears.  He  hastened  towards  the  place;  but 
anxious  to  continue  the  gracious  part  he  had  so  unwontedly 
played  that  day,  he  cleared  his  decks  of  their  formidable  hop- 
lites,  lest  he  might  seem  to  meet  menace  by  menace,  and 
drafting  them  into  other  vessels,  and  accompanied  only  by 
his  personal  serving-men  and  rowers,  he  put  forth  alone,  the 
gilded  shield  and  the  red  banner  still  displayed  at  his  stern. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  335 

But  as  he  was  thus  conspicuous  and  solitary,  and  midway 
in  the  space  left  between  the  Laconian  and  Ionian  galleys,  sud- 
denly two  ships  from  the  latter  darted  forth,  passed  through 
the  centre  of  the  Corinthian  contingent,  and  steered  with  the 
force  of  all  their  rowers  right  towards  the  Spartan's  ship. 

"Surely,"  said  Pausanias,  "that  is  the  Chian's  vessel, — I 
recognize  the  vine-tree  and  the  image  of  the  Bromian  god; 
and  surely  that  other  one  is  the  '  Chimera, '  under  Uliades  the 
Samian.  They  come  hither,  the  Ionian  with  them,  to  har- 
angue against  obedience  to  my  orders." 

"They  come  hither  to  assault  us,"  exclaimed  Erasinidas; 
"their  beaks  are  right  upon  us." 

He  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  the  Chian's  brass  prow  smote 
the  gilded  shield,  and  rent  the  red  banner  from  its  staff.  At 
the  same  time  the  "  Chimera, "  under  Uliades,  struck  the  right 
side  of  the  Spartan  ship,  and  with  both  strokes  the  stout  ves- 
sel reeled  and  dived.  "Know,  Spartan,"  cried  Antagoras, 
from  the  platform  in  the  midst  of  his  soldiers,  "that  we 
lonians  hold  together.  He  who  would  separate,  means  to 
conquer  us.  We  disown  thy  hegemony.  If  ye  would  seek 
us,  we  are  with  the  Athenians." 

With  that  the  two  vessels,  having  performed  their  insolent 
and  daring  feat,  veered  and  shot  off  with  the  same  rapidity 
with  which  they  had  come  to  the  assault ;  and  as  they  did  so, 
hoisted  the  Athenian  ensign  over  their  own  national  stan- 
dards. The  instant  that  signal  was  given,  from  the  other 
Ionian  vessels,  which  had  been  evidently  awaiting  it,  there 
came  a  simultaneous  shout;  and  all,  vacating  their  place  and 
either  gliding  through  or  wheeling  round  the  Corinthian  gal- 
leys, steered  towards  the  Athenian  fleet. 

The  trireme  of  Pausanias,  meanwhile,  sorely  damaged,  part 
of  its  side  rent  away,  and  the  water  rushing  in,  swayed  and 
struggled  alone  in  great  peril  of  sinking. 

Instead  of  pursuing  the  lonians,  the  Corinthian  galleys 
made  at  once  to  the  aid  of  the  insulted  commander. 

"Oh,"  cried  Pausanias,  in  powerless  wrath,  "Oh,  the 
accursed  element!  Oh  that  mine  enemies  had  attacked  me 
on  the  land ! " 


336  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

"How  are  we  to  act?"  said  Aristides. 

"We  are  citizens  of  a  republic,  in  which  the  majority 
govern,"  answered  Cimon;  "and  the  majority  here  tell  us 
how  we  are  to  act.  Hark  to  the  shouts  of  our  men  as  they 
are  opening  way  for  their  kinsmen  of  the  Isles." 

The  sun  sank,  and  with  it  sank  the  Spartan  maritime 
ascendancy  over  Hellas.  And  from  that  hour  in  which  the 
Samian  and  the  Chian  insulted  the  galley  of  Pausanias,  if  we 
accord  weight  to  the  authority  on  which  Plutarch  must  have 
based  his  tale,  commenced  the  brief  and  glorious  sovereignty 
of  Athens.  Commence  when  and  how  it  might,  it  was  an 
epoch  most  signal  in  the  records  of  the  ancient  world  for  its 
results  upon  a  civilization  to  which  as  yet  human  foresight 
can  predict  no  end. 


BOOK    IV. 


CHAPTER   I. 

We  pass  from  Byzantium,  we  are  in  Sparta.  In  tlie 
Archeion,  or  office  of  the  ephoralty,  sat  five  men,  all  some- 
what advanced  in  years.  These  constituted  that  stern  and 
terrible  authority  which  had  gradually,  and  from  unknown 
beginnings,^  assumed  a  kind  of  tyranny  over  the  descendants 
of  Hercules  themselves.  They  were  the  representatives  of 
the  Spartan  people,  elected  without  reference  to  rank  or 
wealth,^  and  possessing  jurisdiction  not  only  over  the  Helots 
and  Laconians,  but  over  most  of  the  magistrates.  They  could 
suspend  or  terminate  any  office,  they  could  accuse  the  kings 
and  bring  them  before  a  court,  in  which  they  themselves  were 
judges,  upon  trial  of  life  and  death.  They  exercised  control 
over  the  armies  and  the  embassies  sent  abroad;  and  the  king, 
at  the  head  of  his  forces,  was  still  bound  to  receive  his  instruc- 
tions from  this  Council  of  Five.  Their  duty,  in  fact,  was  to 
act  as  a  check  upon  the  kings,  and  they  were  the  representa- 
tives of  that  nobility  which  embraced  the  whole  Spartan  peo- 
ple, in  contradistinction  to  the  Laconians  and  Helots. 

The  conference  in  which  they  were  engaged  seemed  to  rivet 
their  most  earnest  attention;  and  as  the  presiding  ephor  con- 
tinued the  observations  he  addressed  to  them,  the  rest  listened 
with  profound  and  almost  breathless  silence. 

1  K.  O.  Miiller  (Dorians),  book  3,  c.  7,  §  2.  According  to  Aristotle,  Cic- 
ero, and  others,  the  ephoralty  was  founded  by  Theopompus  subsequently  to 
the  mythical  time  of  Lycurgus.  To  Lycurgus  himself  it  is  referred  by  Xeno- 
phon  and  Herodotus.  Miiller  considers  rightly  that,  though  an  ancient  Doric 
institution,  it  was  incompatible  with  the  primitive  constitution  of  Lycurgus, 
and  had  gradually  acquired  its  peculiar  character  by  causes  operating  on  the 
Spartan  State  alone. 

*  Aristotle,  Politics,  ii. 

22 


338  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN. 

The  speaker,  named  Periclides,  was  older  than  the  others. 
His  frame,  still  upright  and  sinewy,  was  yet  lean  almost  to 
emaciation,  his  face  sharp,  and  his  dark  eyes  gleamed  with  a 
cunning  and  sinister  light  under  his  gray  brows. 

"If,"  said  he,  "we  are  to  believe  these  lonians,  Pausanias 
meditates  some  deadly  injury  to  Greece.  As  for  the  com- 
plaints of  his  arrogance,  they  are  to  be  received  with  due  cau- 
tion. Our  Spartans,  accustomed  to  the  peculiar  discipline  of 
the  laws  of  -^gimius,  rarely  suit  the  humours  of  lonians  and 
innovators.  The  question  to  consider  is  not  whether  he  has 
been  too  imperious  towards  lonians,  who  were  but  the  other 
day  subjected  to  the  Mede,  but  whether  he  can  make  the  com- 
mand he  received  from  Sparta  menacing  to  Sparta  herself. 
We  lend  him  iron,  he  hath  holpen  himself  to  gold." 

"Besides  the  booty  at  Platsea,  they  say  that  he  has  amassed 
much  plunder  at  Byzantium,"  said  Zeuxidamus,  one  of  the 
ephors,  after  a  pause. 

Periclides  looked  hard  at  the  speaker,  and  the  two  men 
exchanged  a  significant  glance. 

"For  my  part,"  said  a  third,  a  man  of  a  severe  but  noble 
countenance,  the  father  of  Lysander,  and,  what  was  not  usual 
with  the  ephors,  belonging  to  one  of  the  highest  families  of 
Sparta,  "I  have  always  held  that  Sparta  should  limit  its  policy 
to  self-defence;  that,  since  the  Persian  invasion  is  over,  we 
have  no  business  with  Byzantium.  Let  the  busy  Athenians 
obtain  if  they  will  the  empire  of  the  sea;  the  sea  is  no  prov- 
ince of  ours.  All  intercourse  with  foreigners,  Asiatics  and 
lonians,  enervates  our  men  and  corrupts  our  generals.  E-ecall 
Pausanias;  recall  our  Spartans.     I  have  said." 

"Kecall  Pausanias  first,"  said  Periclides,  "and  we  shall 
then  hear  the  truth,  and  decide  what  is  best  to  be  done." 

"  If  he  has  medized,  if  he  has  conspired  against  Greece,  let 
us  accuse  him  to  the  death,"  said  Agesilaus,  Lysander's  father. 

"We  may  accuse,  but  it  rests  not  with  us  to  sentence,"  said 
Periclides,  disapprovingly. 

"  And, "  said  a  fourth  ephor,  with  a  visible  shudder,  "  what 
Spartan  dare  counsel  sentence  of  death  to  the  descendant  of 
the  Gods?" 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  339 

"I  dare,"  replied  Agesilaus;  "but  provided  only  that  the 
descendant  of  the  Gods  had  counselled  death  to  Greece. 
And  for  that  reason,  I  say  that  I  would  not,  without  evidence 
the  clearest,  even  harbour  the  thought  that  a  Heracleid  could 
meditate  treason  to  his  country." 

Periclides  felt  the  reproof  and  bit  his  lips. 

"Besides,"  observed  Zeuxidamus,  "fines  enrich  the  State." 

Periclides  nodded  approvingly. 

An  expression  of  lofty  contempt  passed  over  the  brow  and 
lip  of  Agesilaus.  But  with  national  self-command,  he  replied 
gravely,  and  with  equal  laconic  brevity,  "If  Pausanias  hath 
committed  a  trivial  error  that  a  fine  can  expiate,  so  be  it ;  but 
talk  not  of  fines  till  ye  acquit  him  of  all  treasonable  conniv- 
ance with  the  Mede." 

At  that  moment  an  officer  entered  on  the  conclave,  and 
approaching  the  presiding  ephor,  whispered  in  his  ear. 

"  This  is  well, "  exclaimed  Periclides,  aloud.  "  A  messenger 
from  Pausanias  himself.  Your  son  Lysander  has  just  arrived 
from  Byzantium." 

"  My  son !  "  exclaimed  Agesilaus,  eagerly ;  and  then,  check- 
ing himself,  added  calmly,  "  That  is  a  sign  no  danger  to  Sparta 
threatened  Byzantium  when  he  left." 

"Let  him  be  admitted,"  said  Periclides. 

Lysander  entered,  and  pausing  at  a  little  distance  from  the 
council  board,  inclined  his  head  submissively  to  the  ephors; 
save  a  rapid  interchange  of  glances,  no  separate  greeting  took 
place  between  son  and  father. 

"Thou  art  welcome,"  said  Periclides.  "Thou  hast  done 
thy  duty  since  thou  hast  left  the  city.  Virgins  will  praise 
thee  as  the  brave  man;  age,  more  sober,  is  contented  to  say 
thou  hast  upheld  the  Spartan  name,  and  thy  father  without 
shame  may  take  thy  hand." 

A  warm  flush  spread  over  the  young  man's  face.  He 
stepped  forward  with  a  quick  step,  his  eyes  beaming  with 
joy.  Calm  and  stately,  his  father  rose,  clasped  the  extended 
hand,  then  releasing  his  own,  placed  it  an  instant  on  his  son's 
bended  head,  and  reseated  himself  in  silence. 

"Thou  camest  straight  from  Pausanias?"  said  Periclides. 


340  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

Lysander  drew  from  his  vest  the  despatch  intrusted  to  him, 
and  gave  it  to  the  presiding  ephor.  Periclides  half  rose,  as  if 
to  take  with  more  respect  what  had  come  from  the  hand  of  the 
son  of  Hercules. 

"Withdraw,  Lysander,"  he  said,  "and  wait  without  while 
we  deliberate  on  the  contents  herein." 

Lysander  obeyed,  and  returned  to  the  outer  chamber. 

Here  he  was  instantly  surrounded  by  eager,  though  not 
noisy,  groups.  Some  in  that  chamber  were  waiting  on  busi- 
ness connected  with  the  civil  jurisdiction  of  the  ephors ;  some 
had  gained  admittance  for  the  purpose  of  greeting  their  brave 
countryman  and  hearing  news  of  the  distant  camp  from  one 
who  had  so  lately  quitted  the  great  Pausanias.  For  men  could 
talk  without  restraint  of  their  general,  though  it  was  but  with 
reserve  and  indirectly  that  they  slid  in  some  furtive  question 
as  to  the  health  and  safety  of  a  brother  or  a  son. 

"My  heart  warms  to  be  amongst  you  again,"  said  the  simple 
Spartan  youth.  "As  I  came  through  the  defiles  from  the  sea- 
coast,  and  saw  on  the  height  the  gleam  from  the  old  Temple 
of  Pallas  Chalcioecus,  I  said  to  myself,  *  Blessed  be  the  Gods 
that  ordained  me  to  live  with  Spartans  or  die  with  Sparta !  " 

"Thou  wilt  see  how  much  we  shall  make  of  thee,  Lysander," 
cried  a  Spartan  youth  a  little  younger  than  himself,  one  of  the 
superior  tribe  of  the  Hylleans.  "  We  have  heard  of  thee  at 
Platsea.  It  is  said  that  had  Pausanias  not  been  there,  thou 
wouldst  have  been  called  the  bravest  Greek  in  the  armament." 

"  Hush ! "  said  Lysander ;  "  thy  few  years  excuse  thee, 
young  friend.  Save  our  general,  we  were  all  equals  in  the 
day  of  battle." 

"So  thinks  not  my  sister  Percalus,"  whispered  the  youth, 
archly;  "scold  her  as  thou  dost  me,  if  thou  dare." 

Lysander  coloured,  and  replied  in  a  voice  that  slightly 
trembled:  "I  cannot  hope  that  thy  sister  interests  herself 
in  me.  Nay,  when  I  left  Sparta  I  thought  —  "  He  checked 
himself. 

"Thought  what?" 

"That  among  those  who  remained  behind,  Percalus  might 
find  her  betrothed  long  before  I  returned." 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  341 

"Among  those  who  remained  behind!  Percalus!  How 
meanly  thou  must  think  of  her !  " 

Before  Lysander  could  utter  the  eager  assurance  that  he 
was  very  far  from  thinking  meanly  of  Percalus,  the  other 
bystanders,  impatient  at  this  whispered  colloquy,  seized  his 
attention  with  a  volley  of  questions,  to  which  he  gave  but  curt 
and  not  very  relevant  answers,  so  much  had  the  lad's  few  sen- 
tences disturbed  the  calm  tenor  of  his  existing  self-possession. 
Nor  did  he  quite  regain  his  presence  of  mind  until  he  was  once 
more  summoned  into  the  presence  of  the  ephors. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  communication  of  Pausanias  had  caused  an  animated 
discussion  in  the  Council,  and  led  to  a  strong  division  of  opin- 
ion. But  the  faces  of  the  ephors,  rigid  and  composed,  revealed 
nothing  to  guide  the  sagacity  of  Lysander  as  he  re-entered  the 
chamber.  He  himself  by  a  strong  effort  had  recovered  the 
disturbance  into  which  the  words  of  the  boy  had  thrown  his 
mind,  and  he  stood  before  the  ephors  intent  upon  the  object  of 
defending  the  name  and  fulfilling  the  commands  of  his  chief. 
So  reverent  and  grateful  was  the  love  that  he  bore  to  Pausanias 
that  he  scarcely  permitted  himself  even  to  blame  the  devia- 
tions from  Spartan  austerity  which  he  secretly  mourned  in  his 
mind;  and  as  to  the  grave  guilt  of  treason  to  the  Hellenic 
cause,  he  had  never  suffered  the  suspicion  of  it  to  rest  upon  an 
intellect  that  only  failed  to  be  penetrating  where  its  sight  was 
limited  by  discipline  and  affection.  He  felt  that  Pausanias 
had  intrusted  to  him  his  defence,  and  though  he  would  fain, 
in  his  secret  heart,  have  beheld  the  regent  once  more  in 
Sparta,  yet  he  well  knew  that  it  was  the  duty  of  obedience 
and  friendship  to  plead  against  the  sentence  of  recall  which 
was  so  dreaded  by  his  chief. 


342  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

With,  all  his  thoughts  collected  towards  that  end,  he  stood 
before  the  ephors,  modest  in  demeanour,  vigilant  in  purpose. 

"Ly Sander,"  said  Periclides,  after  a  short  pause,  "we  know 
thy  affection  to  the  regent,  thy  chosen  friend;  but  we  know 
also  thy  affection  for  thy  native  Sparta :  where  the  two  may 
come  into  conflict,  it  is,  and  it  must  be,  thy  country  which 
will  claim  the  preference.  We  charge  thee,  by  virtue  of  our 
high  powers  and  authority,  to  speak  the  truth  on  the  ques- 
tions we  shall  address  to  thee,  without  fear  or  favour." 

Lysander  bowed  his  head.  "  I  am  in  presence  of  Sparta  my 
mother,  and  Agesilaus  my  father.  They  know  that  I  was  not 
reared  to  lie  to  either." 

"  Thou  say 'st  well.  Now  answer.  Is  it  true  that  Pausanias 
wears  the  robes  of  the  Mede?" 

"It  is  true." 

"And  has  he  stated  to  thee  his  reasons?  " 

"Not  only  to  me,  but  to  others." 

"What  are  they?" 

"  That  in  the  mixed  and  half  medized  population  of  Byzan- 
tium, splendour  of  attire  has  become  so  associated  with  the 
notion  of  sovereign  power  that  the  Eastern  dress  and  attributes 
of  pomp  are  essential  to  authority,  and  that  men  bow  before 
his  tiara  who  might  rebel  against  the  helm  and  the  horsehair. 
Outward  signs  have  a  value,  0  ephors,  according  to  the  notions 
men  are  brought  up  to  attach  to  them." 

"Good,"  said  one  of  the  ephors.  "There  is  in  this  depart- 
ure from  our  habits,  be  it  right  or  wrong,  no  sign,  then,  of 
connivance  with  the  Barbarian?  " 

"  Connivance  is  a  thing  secret  and  concealed,  and  shuns  all 
outward  signs." 

"But,"  said  Periclides,  "what  say  the  other  Spartan  cap- 
tains to  this  vain  fashion,  which  savours  not  of  the  laws  of 
iEgimius?" 

"  The  first  law  of  ^gimius  commands  us  to  fight  and  to  die 
for  the  king  or  the  chief  who  has  kingly  sway.  The  ephors 
may  blame,  but  the  soldier  must  not  question." 

"Thou  speakest  boldly  for  so  young  a  man,"  said  Periclides, 
harshly. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  343 

"I  was  commanded  to  speak  the  truth." 

"Has  Pausanias  intrusted  the  command  of  Byzantium  to 
Gongylus  the  Eretrian,  who  already  holds  four  provinces 
under  Xerxes?" 

"He  has  done  so." 

"  Know  you  the  reason  for  that  selection?  " 

"  Pausanias  says  that  the  Eretrian  could  not  more  show  his 
faith  to  Hellas  than  by  resigning  Eastern  satrapies  so  vast." 

"Has  he  resigned  them?" 

"I  know  not;  but  I  presume  that  when  the  Persian  king 
knows  that  the  Eretrian  is  leagued  against  him  with  the  other 
captains  of  Hellas,  he  will  assign  the  satrapies  to  another." 

"And  is  it  true  that  the  Persian  prisoners,  Ariamanes  and 
Datis,  have  escaped  from  the  custody  of  Gongylus?" 

"It  is  true.  The  charge  against  Gongylus  for  that  error 
was  heard  in  a  council  of  confederate  captains,  and  no  proof 
against  him  was  brought  forward.  Cimon  was  intrusted  with 
the  pursuit  of  the  prisoners.  Pausanias  himself  sent  forth 
fifty  scouts  on  Thessalian  horses.  The  prisoners  were  not 
discovered." 

"Is  it  true,"  said  Zeuxidamus,  " that  Pausanias  has  amassed 
much  plunder  at  Byzantium?" 

"  What  he  has  won  as  a  conqueror  was  assigned  to  him  by 
common  voice;  but  he  has  spent  largely  out  of  his  own  re- 
sources in  securing  the  Greek  sway  at  Byzantium." 

There  was  a  silence.  None  liked  to  question  the  young 
soldier  further;  none  liked  to  put  the  direct  question  whether 
or  not  the  Ionian  ambassador  could  have  cause  for  suspecting 
the  descendant  of  Hercules  of  harm  against  the  Greeks.  At 
length  Agesilaus  said,  — 

"  I  demand  the  word,  and  I  claim  the  right  to  speak  plainly. 
My  son  is  young,  but  he  is  of  the  blood  of  Hyllus. 

"Son,  Pausanias  is  dear  to  thee.  Man  soon  dies:  man's 
name  lives  forever.  Dear  to  thee  if  Pausanias  is,  dearer  must 
be  his  name.  In  brief,  the  Ionian  ambassadors  complain  of 
his  arrogance  towards  the  confederates ;  they  demand  his  re- 
call. Cimon  has  addressed  a  private  letter  to  the  Spartan 
host,  with  whom  he  lodged  here,  intimating  that  it  may  be 


344  PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN. 

best  for  tlie  honour  of  Pausanias,  and  for  our  weight  with  the 
allies,  to  hearken  to  the  Ionian  embassy.  It  is  a  grave  ques- 
tion therefore,  whether  we  should  recall  the  regent  or  refuse 
to  hear  these  charges.  Thou  art  fresh  from  Byzantium ;  thou 
must  know  more  of  this  matter  than  we.  Loose  thy  tongue, 
put  aside  equivocation.  Say  thy  mind;  it  is  for  us  to  decide 
afterwards  what  is  our  duty  to  the  State." 

"I  thank  thee,  my  father,"  said  Lysander,  colouring  deeply 
at  a  compliment  paid  rarely  to  one  so  young,  "and  thus  I 
answer  thee :  — 

"Pausanias,  in  seeking  to  enforce  discipline  and  preserve 
the  Spartan  supremacy,  was  at  first  somewhat  harsh  and  severe 
to  these  lonians,  who  had  indeed  but  lately  emancipated  them- 
selves from  the  Persian  yoke,  and  who  were  little  accustomed 
to  steady  rule.  But  of  late  he  has  been  affable  and  courteous, 
and  no  complaint  was  urged  against  him  for  austerity  at  the 
time  when  this  embassy  was  sent  to  you.  Wherefore  was  it 
then  sent?  Partly,  it  may  be,  from  motives  of  private  hate, 
not  public  zeal,  but  partly  because  the  Ionian  race  sees  with 
reluctance  and  jealousy  the  hegemony  of  Sparta.  I  would 
speak  plainly.  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  whether  ye  will  or  not 
that  Sparta  should  retain  the  maritime  supremacy  of  Hellas, 
but  if  ye  do  will  it,  ye  will  not  recall  Pausanias.  No  other 
than  the  conqueror  of  Plataea  has  a  chance  of  maintaining  that 
authority.  Eager  would  the  lonians  be  upon  any  pretext,  false 
or  frivolous,  to  rid  themselves  of  Pausanias.  Artfully  willing 
would  be  the  Athenians  in  especial  that  ye  listened  to  such 
pretexts ;  for,  Pausanias  gone,  Athens  remains  and  rules.  On 
what  belongs  to  the  policy  of  the  State  it  becomes  not  me  to 
proffer  a  word,  O  ephors.  In  what  I  have  said  I  speak  what 
the  whole  armament  thinks  and  murmurs.  But  this  I  may 
say,  as  soldier  to  whom  the  honour  of  his  chief  is  dear :  The 
recall  of  Pausanias  may  or  may  not  be  wise  as  a  public  act, 
but  it  will  be  regarded  throughout  all  Hellas  as  a  personal 
affront  to  your  general ;  it  will  lower  the  royalty  of  Sparta,  it 
will  be  an  insult  to  the  blood  of  Hercules.  Forgive  me,  O 
venerable  magistrates.  I  have  fought  by  the  side  of  Pausa- 
nias, and  I  cannot  dare  to  think  that  the  great  conqueror  of 


b 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  345 

Plataea,  the  man  who  saved  Hellas  from  the  Mede,  the  man 
who  raised  Sparta  on  that  day  to  a  renown  which  penetrated 
the  farthest  corners  of  the  East,  will  receive  from  you  other 
return  than  fame  and  glory.  And  fame  and  glory  will  surely 
make  that  proud  spirit  doubly  Spartan." 

Lysander  paused,  breathing  hard  and  colouring  deeply,  — 
annoyed  with  himself  for  a  speech  of  which  both  the  length 
and  the  audacity  were  much  more  Ionian  than  Spartan. 

The  ephors  looked  at  each  other,  and  there  was  again 
silence. 

"Son  of  Agesilaus,"  said  Periclides,  "thou  hast  proved  thy 
Lacedaemonian  virtues  too  well,  and  too  high  and  general  is 
thy  repute  amongst  our  army,  as  it  is  borne  to  our  ears,  for  us 
to  doubt  thy  purity  and  patriotism ;  otherwise,  we  might  fear 
that  whilst  thou  speakest  in  some  contempt  of  Ionian  wolves, 
thou  hadst  learned  the  arts  of  Ionian  agoras.  But  enough: 
thou  art  dismissed.  Go  to  thy  home ;  glad  the  eyes  of  thy 
mother  J  enjoy  the  honours  thou  wilt  find  awaiting  thee 
amongst  thy  coevals.  Thou  wilt  learn  later  whether  thou 
return  to  Byzantium,  or  whether  a  better  field  for  thy  valour 
may  not  be  found  in  the  nearer  war  with  which  Arcadia 
threatens  us." 

As  soon  as  Lysander  left  the  chamber,  Agesilaus  spoke :  — 

"  Ye  will  pardon  me,  ephors,  if  I  bade  my  son  speak  thus 
boldly.  I  need  not  say  I  am  no  vain,  foolish  father,  desiring 
to  raise  the  youth  above  his  years.  But  making  allowance 
for  his  partiality  to  the  regent,  ye  will  grant  that  he  is  a  fair 
specimen  of  our  young  soldiery.  Probably,  as  he  speaks,  so 
will  our  young  men  think.  To  recall  Pausanias  is  to  disgrace 
our  general.  Ye  have  my  mind.  If  the  regent  be  guilty  of 
the  darker  charges  insinuated,  —  correspondence  with  the 
Persian  against  Greece,  —  I  know  but  one  sentence  for  him, 
—  Death.  And  it  is  because  I  would  have  you  consider  well 
how  dread  is  such  a  charge,  and  how  awful  such  a  sentence, 
that  I  entreat  you  not  lightly  to  entertain  the  one  unless  ye 
are  prepared  to  meditate  the  other.  As  for  the  maritime 
supremacy  of  Sparta,  I  hold,  as  I  have  held  before,  that  it  is 
not  within  our  councils  to  strive  for  it;  it  must  pass  from  us. 


346  PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN. 

We  may  surrender  it  later  with  dignity ;  if  we  recall  our  gen- 
eral on  such  complaints,  we  lose  it  with  humiliation." 

"I  agree  with  Agesilaus,"  said  another.  "Pausanias  is  a 
Heracleid;  my  vote  shall  not  insult  him." 

"I  agree  too  with  Agesilaus,"  said  a  third  ephor, — "not 
because  Pausanais  is  the  Heracleid,  but  because  he  is  the  vic- 
torious general  who  demands  gratitude  and  respect  from  every 
true  Spartan." 

"Be  it  so,"  said  Periclides,  who,  seeing  himself  thus  out- 
voted in  the  council,  covered  his  disappointment  with  the 
self-control  habitual  to  his  race.  "  But  be  we  in  no  hurry  to 
give  these  Ionian  legates  their  answer  to-day.  We  must  de- 
liberate well  how  to  send  such  a  reply  as  may  be  most  concil- 
iating and  prudent.  And  for  the  next  few  days  we  have  an 
excuse  for  delay  in  the  religious  ceremonials  due  to  the  vener- 
able Divinity  of  Fear,  which  commence  to-morrow.  Pass  we 
to  the  other  business  before  us ;  there  are  many  whom  we  have 
kept  waiting.  Agesilaus,  thou  art  excused  from  the  public 
table  to-day  if  thou  wouldst  sup  with  thy  brave  son  at  home." 

"Nay,"  said  Agesilaus,  "my  son  will  go  to  his  pheidition, 
and  I  to  mine,  —  as  I  did  on  the  day  when  I  lost  my  first- 
born." 


CHAPTER  III. 

On  quitting  the  Hall  of  the  Ephors,  Lysander  found  himself 
at  once  on  the  Spartan  Agora,  wherein  that  Hall  was  placed. 
This  was  situated  on  the  highest  of  the  five  hills,  over  which 
the  unwalled  city  spread  its  scattered  population,  and  was 
popularly  called  the  Tower.  Before  the  eyes  of  the  young 
Spartan  rose  the  statues,  rude  and  antique,  of  Latona,  the 
Pythian  Apollo,  and  his  sister  Artemis,  —  venerable  images  to 
Lysander's  early  associations.  The  place  which  they  conse- 
crated was  called  Chorus ;  for  there,  in  honour  of  Apollo,  and 
in  the  most  pompous  of  all  the  Spartan  festivals,  the  young 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  347 

men  were  accustomed  to  lead  the  sacred  dance.  The  temple  of 
Apollo  himself  stood  a  little  in  the  background,  and  near  to  it 
that  of  Hera.  But  more  vast  than  any  image  of  a  god  was  a 
colossal  statue  which  represented  the  Spartan  people ;  while  on 
a  still  loftier  pinnacle  of  the  hill  than  that  table -land  which 
enclosed  the  Agora  —  dominating,  as  it  were,  the  whole  city 
—  soared  into  the  bright  blue  sky  the  sacred  Chalcioecus,  or 
Temple  of  the  Brazen  Pallas,  darkening  with  its  shadow  an- 
other fane  towards  the  left  dedicated  to  the  Lacedaemonian 
Muses,  and  receiving  a  gleam  on  the  right  from  the  brazen 
statue  of  Zeus,  which  was  said  by  tradition  to  have  been  made 
by  a  disciple  of  Daedalus  himself. 

But  short  time  had  Lysander  to  note  undisturbed  the  old 
familiar  scenes.  A  crowd  of  his  early  friends  had  already 
collected  round  the  doors  of  the  Archeion,  and  rushed  forward 
to  greet  and  welcome  him.  The  Spartan  coldness  and  auster- 
ity of  social  intercourse  vanished  always  before  the  enthusiasm 
created  by  the  return  to  his  native  city  of  a  man  renowned  for 
valour;  and  Lysander's  fame  had  come  back  to  Sparta  before 
himself.  Joyously  and  in  triumph  the  young  men  bore  away 
their  comrade.  As  they  passed  through  the  centre  of  the 
Agora,  where  assembled  the  various  merchants  and  farmers 
who,  under  the  name  of  Perioeci,  carried  on  the  main  business 
of  the  Laconian  mart,  and  were  often  much  wealthier  than 
the  Spartan  citizens,  trade  ceased  its  hubbub,  all  drew  near 
to  gaze  on  the  young  warrior ;  and  now,  as  they  turned  from 
the  Agora,  a  group  of  eager  women  met  them  on  the  road,  and 
shrill  voices  exclaimed:  "Go,  Lysander,  thou  hast  fought 
well ;  go,  and  choose  for  thyself  the  maiden  that  seems  to  thee 
the  fairest.     Go,  marry  and  get  sons  for  Sparta.'' 

Lysander's  step  seemed  to  tread  on  air,  and  tears  of  rapture 
stood  in  his  downcast  eyes.  But  suddenly  all  the  voices 
hushed;  the  crowds  drew  back;  his  friends  halted.  Close  by 
the  great  Temple  of  Fear,  and  coming  from  some  place  within 
its  sanctuary,  there  approached  towards  the  Spartan  and  his 
comrades  a  majestic  woman,  —  a  woman  of  so  grand  a  step 
and  port  that,  though  her  veil  as  yet  hid  her  face,  her  form 
alone  sufficed  to  inspire  awe.     All  knew  her  by  her  gait;  all 


348  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

made  way  for  Alithea,  the  widow  of  a  king,  the  mother  of 
Pausanias  the  regent.  Lysander,  lifting  his  eyes  from  the 
ground,  impressed  by  the  hush  around  him,  recognized  the 
form  as  it  advanced  slowly  towards  him,  and,  leaving  his 
comrades  behind,  stepped  forward  to  salute  the  mother  of  his 
chief.  She,  thus  seeing  him,  turned  slightly  aside,  and  paused 
by  a  rude  building  of  immemorial  antiquity  which  stood  near 
the  temple.  That  building  was  the  tomb  of  the  mythical 
Orestes,  whose  bones  were  said  to  have  been  interred  there 
by  the  command  of  the  Delphian  oracle.  On  a  stone  at  the 
foot  of  the  tomb  sat  calmly  down  the  veiled  woman  and 
waited  the  approach  of  Lysander.  When  he  came  near,  and 
alone, — all  the  rest  remaining  aloof  and  silent, — Alithea 
removed  her  veil,  and  a  countenance  grand  and  terrible  as 
that  of  a  Eate  lifted  its  rigid  looks  to  the  young  Spartan's 
eyes.  Despite  her  age,  —  for  she  had  passed  into  middle  life 
before  she  had  borne  Pausanias,  —  Alithea  retained  all  the 
traces  of  a  marvellous  and  almost  preterhuman  beauty.  But 
it  was  not  the  beauty  of  woman.  No  softness  sat  on  those 
lips;  no  love  beamed  from  those  eyes.  Stern,  inexorable, — 
not  a  fault  in  her  grand  proportions,  —  the  stoutest  heart  might 
have  felt  a  throb  of  terror  as  the  eye  rested  upon  that  pitiless 
and  imposing  front.  And  the  deep  voice  of  the  Spartan  war- 
rior had  a  slight  tremor  in  its  tone  as  it  uttered  its  respectful 
salutation. 

"Draw  near,  Lysander.     What  sayest  thou  of  my  son?" 

"Ilefthim  well  and  —  " 

"  Does  a  Spartan  mother  first  ask  of  the  bodily  health  of  an 
absent  man-child?  By  the  tomb  of  Orestes  and  near  the  Tem- 
ple of  Fear,  a  king's  widow  asks  a  Spartan  soldier  what  he 
says  of  a  Spartan  chief." 

"All  Hellas,"  replied  Lysander,  recovering  his  spirits, 
"might  answer  thee  best,  Alithea;  for  all  Hellas  proclaimed 
that  the  bravest  man  at  Platsea  was  thy  son,  my  chief." 

"And  where  did  my  son,  thy  chief,  learn  to  boast  of  brav- 
ery? They  tell  me  he  inscribed  the  offerings  to  the  Gods 
with  his  name  as  the  victor  of  Plataea,  —  the  battle  won,  not 
by  one  man,  but  assembled  Greece.     The  inscription  that  dis- 


PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN.  349 

honours  him  by  its  vainglory  will  be  erased.  To  be  brave  is 
nought;  Barbarians  may  be  brave.  But  to  dedicate  bravery 
to  his  native  land  becomes  a  Spartan.  He  who  is  everything 
against  a  foe  should  count  himself  as  nothing  in  the  service 
of  his  country." 

Lysander  remained  silent  under  the  gaze  of  those  fixed  and 
imperious  eyes. 

"  Youth, "  said  Alithea,  after  a  short  pause,  "  if  thou  return- 
est  to  Byzantium,  say  this  from  Alithea  to  thy  chief:  '  From 
thy  childhood,  Pausanias,  has  thy  mother  feared  for  thee,  and 
at  the  Temple  of  Fear  did  she  sacrifice  when  she  heard  that 
thou  wert  victorious  at  Platsea;  for  in  thy  heart  are  the  seeds 
of  arrogance  and  pride,  and  victory  to  thine  arms  may  end  in 
ruin  to  thy  name.  And  ever  since  that  day  does  Alithea 
haunt  the  precincts  of  that  temple.  Come  back  and  be  Spar- 
tan, as  thine  ancestors  were  before  thee,  and  Alithea  will 
rejoice  and  think  the  Gods  have  heard  her.  But  if  thou  seest 
within  thyself  one  cause  why  thy  mother  should  sacrifice  to 
Fear  lest  her  son  should  break  the  laws  of  Sparta  or  sully  his 
Spartan  name,  humble  thyself,  and  mourn  that  thou  didst  not 
perish  at  Plataea.  By  a  temple  and  from  a  tomb  I  send  thee 
warning.'     Say  this.     I  have  done;  join  thy  friends." 

Again  the  veil  fell  over  the  face,  and  the  figure  of  the 
woman  remained  seated  at  the  tomb  long  after  the  procession 
had  passed  on,  and  the  mirth  of  young  voices  was  again 
released. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  group  that  attended  Lysander  continued  to  swell  as  he 
mounted  the  acclivity  on  which  his  parental  home  was  placed. 
The  houses  of  the  Spartan  proprietors  were  at  that  day  not 
closely  packed  together,  as  in  the  dense  population  of  com- 
mercial towns.  More  like  the  villas  of  a  suburb,  they  lay 
a  little  apart,  on  the  unequal  surface  of  the  rugged  ground, 


350  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

perfectly  plain  and  unadorned,  covering  a  large  space  with 
ample  courtyards,  closed  in,  in  front  of  the  narrow  streets. 
And  still  was  in  force  the  primitive  law  which  ordained  that 
doorwaj^s  should  be  shaped  only  by  the  saw,  and  the  ceilings 
by  the  axe;  but  in  contrast  to  the  rudeness  of  the  private 
houses,  at  every  opening  in  the  street  were  seen  the  Doric 
pillars  or  graceful  stairs  of  a  temple,  and  high  over  all  domi- 
nated the  Tower-hill,  or  Acropolis,  with  the  antique  fane  of 
Pallas  Chalcioecus. 

And  so,  loud  and  joyous,  the  procession  bore  the  young 
warrior  to  the  threshold  of  his  home.  It  was  an  act  of  public 
honour  to  his  fair  repute  and  his  proven  valour;  and  the 
Spartan  felt  as  proud  of  that  unceremonious  attendance  as 
ever  did  Eoman  chief  sweeping  under  arches  of  triumph  in 
the  curule  car. 

At  the  threshold  of  the  door  stood  his  mother  —  for  the 
tidings  of  his  coming  had  preceded  him  —  and  his  little 
brothers  and  sisters.  His  step  quickened  at  the  sight  of 
these  beloved  faces. 

"Bound  forward,  Lysander,"  said  one  of  the  train;  "thou 
hast  won  the  right  to  thy  mother's  kiss." 

"But  fail  us  not  at  the  pheidition  before  sunset,"  cried 
another.  "Every  one  of  the  obe  will  send  his  best  contribu- 
tion to  the  feast  to  welcome  thee  back.  Wo  shall  have  a  rare 
banquet  of  it." 

And  so,  as  his  mother  drew  him  within  the  doors,  his  arm 
round  her  waist,  and  as  the  children  clung  to  his  cloak,  to  his 
knees,  or  sprung  up  to  claim  his  kiss,  the  procession  set  up  a 
kind  of  chanted  shout,  and  left  the  warrior  in  his  home. 

"Oh,  this  is  joy,  joy!"  said  Lysander,  with  sweet  tears  in 
his  eyes,  as  he  sat  in  the  women's  apartment,  his  mother  by 
his  side  and  the  little  ones  round  him.  "Where,  save  in 
Sparta,  does  a  man  love  a  home?" 

And  this  exclamation,  which  might  have  astonished  an 
Ionian,  — seeing  how  much  the  Spartan  civilians  merged  the 
individual  in  the  State,  —  was  yet  true  where  the  Spartan 
was  wholly  Spartan,  where,  by  habit  and  association,  he  had 
learned  to  love  the  severities  of  the  existence  that  surrounded 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  351 

him,  and  where  the  routine  of  duties  which  took  him  from 
his  home,  whether  for  exercises  or  the  public  tables,  made 
yet  more  precious  the  hours  of  rest  and  intimate  intercourse 
with  his  family.  For  the  gay  pleasures  and  lewd  resorts  of 
other  Greek  cities  were  not  known  to  the  Spartan.  Not  for 
him  were  the  cook-shops  and  baths  and  revels  of  Ionian  idlers. 
When  the  State  ceased  to  claim  him,  he  had  nothing  but  his 
Home. 

As  Lysander  thus  exclaimed,  the  door  of  the  room  had  opened 
noiselessly,  and  Agesilaus  stood  unperceived  at  the  entrance, 
and  overheard  his  son.  His  face  brightened  singularly  at  Ly- 
sander's  words.     He  came  forward  and  opened  his  arms. 

"  Embrace  me  now,  my  boy !  my  brave  boy !  embrace  me 
now!     The  ephors  are  not  here." 

Lysander  turned,  sprang  up,  and  was  in  his  father's  arms. 

"  So  thou  art  not  changed.  Byzantium  has  not  spoiled  thee. 
Thy  name  is  uttered  with  praise  unmixed  with  fear.  All 
Persia's  gold,  all  the  great  king's  satrapies,  could  not  medize 
my  Lysander.  Ah,"  continued  the  father,  turning  to  his  wife, 
"who  could  have  predicted  the  happiness  of  this  hour?  Poor 
child  I  he  was  born  sickly.  Hera  had  already  given  us  more 
sons  than  we  could  provide  for,  ere  our  lands  were  increased 
by  the  death  of  thy  childless  relatives.  Wife,  wife!  when 
the  family  council  ordained  him  to  be  exposed  on  Taygetus, 
when  thou  didst  hide  thyself  lest  thy  tears  should  be  seen, 
and  my  voice  trembled  as  I  said,  *  Be  the  laws  obeyed, '  who 
could  have  guessed  that  the  Gods  would  yet  preserve  him  to 
be  the  pride  of  our  house?  Blessed  be  Zeus  the  Saviour  and 
Hercules  the  Warrior !  " 

"And,"  said  the  mother,  "blessed  be  Pausanias,  the  de- 
scendant of  Hercules,  who  took  the  forlorn  infant  to  his 
father's  home,  and  who  has  reared  him  now  to  be  the  example 
of  Spartan  youths." 

"Ah,"  said  Lysander,  looking  up  into  his  father's  eyes,  "if 
I  can  ever  be  worthy  of  your  love,  0  my  father,  forget  not,  I 
pray  thee,  that  it  is  to  Pausanias  I  owe  life,  home,  and  a 
Spartan's  glorious  destiny." 

"  I  forget  it  not, "  answered  Agesilaus,  with  a  mournful  and 


352  PAUSANIAS  THE    SPARTAN. 

serious  expression  of  countenance.  "And  on  this  I  would 
speak  to  thee.  Thy  mother  must  spare  thee  a  while,  to  me. 
Come,  I  lean  on  thy  shoulder  instead  of  my  staff." 

Agesilaus  led  his  son  into  the  large  hall,  which  was  the 
main  chamber  of  the  house;  and  pacing  up  and  down  the 
wide  and  solitary  floor,  questioned  him  closely  as  to  the  truth 
of  the  stories  respecting  the  regent  which  had  reached  the 
ephors. 

"Thou  must  speak  with  naked  heart  to  me,"  said  Agesilaus, 
"for  I  tell  thee  that,  if  I  am  Spartan,  I  am  also  man  and 
father ;  and  I  would  serve  him  who  saved  thy  life  and  taught 
thee  how  to  fight  for  thy  country,  in  every  way  that  may  be 
lawful  to  a  Spartan  and  a  Greek." 

Thus  addressed,  and  convinced  of  his  father's  sincerity, 
Lysander  replied  with  ingenuous  and  brief  simplicity.  He 
granted  that  Pausanias  had  exposed  himself  with  a  haughty 
imprudence,  which  it  was  difficult  to  account  for,  to  the 
charges  of  the  lonians.  "But,"  he  added,  with  that  shrewd 
observation  which  his  affection  for  Pausanias  rather  than  his 
experience  of  human  nature  had  taught  him,  —  "  But  we  must 
remember  that  in  Pausanias  we  are  dealing  with  no  ordinary 
man.  If  he  has  faults  of  judgment  which  a  Spartan  rarely 
commits,  he  has,  0  my  father,  a  force  of  intellect  and  passion 
which  a  Spartan  as  rarely  knows.  Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth? 
Our  State  is  too  small  for  him.  But  would  it  not  have  been 
too  small  for  Hercules?  Would  the  laws  of  ^gimius  have 
permitted  Hercules  to  perform  his  labours  and  achieve  his 
conquests?  This  vast  and  fiery  nature,  suddenly  released 
from  the  cramps  of  our  customs,  which  Pausanias  never  in 
his  youth  regarded  save  as  galling,  expands  itself,  as  an  eagle 
long  caged  would  outspread  its  wings." 

"I  comprehend,"  said  Agesilaus,  thoughtfully,  and  some- 
what sadly.  "  There  have  been  moments  in  my  own  life  when 
I  regarded  Sparta  as  a  prison.  In  my  early  manhood  I  was 
sent  on  a  mission  to  Corinth.  Its  pleasures,  its  wild  tumult 
of  gay  license,  dazzled  and  inebriated  me.  I  said,  *  This  it  is 
to  live.*  I  came  back  to  Sparta  sullen  and  discontented. 
But  then,  happily,  I  saw  thy  mother  at  the  festival  of  Diana, 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  353 

—  we  loved  each  other,  we  married;  and  when  I  was  per- 
mitted to  take  her  to  my  home,  I  became  sobered  and  was  a 
Spartan  again.  I  comprehend.  Poor  Pausanias!  But  lux- 
ury and  pleasure,  though  they  charm  awhile,  do  not  till  up 
the  whole  of  a  soul  like  that  of  our  Heracleii.  From  these 
he  may  recover ;  but  Ambition,  —  that  is  the  true  liver  of 
Tantalus,  and  grows  larger  under  the  beak  that  feeds  on  it. 
What  is  his  ambition,  if  Sparta  be  too  small  for  him?" 

"  I  think  his  ambition  would  be  to  make  Sparta  as  big  as 
himself." 

Agesilaus  stroked  his  chin  musingly. 

"And  how?" 

"I  cannot  tell,  I  can  only  guess.  But  the  Persian  war,  if 
I  may  judge  by  what  I  hear  and  see,  cannot  roll  away  and 
leave  the  boundaries  of  each  Greek  State  the  same.  Two 
States  now  stand  forth  prominent,  —  Athens  and  Sparta. 
Themistocles  and  Cimon  aim  at  making  Athens  the  head 
of  Hellas.  Perhaps  Pausanias  aims  to  effect  for  Sparta  what 
they  would  effect  for  Athens." 

"And  what  thinkest  thou  of  such  a  scheme?" 

"Ask  me  not.  I  am  too  young,  too  inexperienced,  and 
perhaps  too  Spartan  to  answer  rightly." 

"Too  Spartan,  because  thou  art  too  covetous  of  power  for 
Sparta?  " 

"  Too  Spartan,  because  I  may  be  too  anxious  to  keep  Sparta 
what  she  is." 

Agesilaus  smiled.  "We  are  of  the  same  mind,  my  son. 
Think  not  that  the  rocky  defiles  which  enclose  us  shut  out 
from  our  minds  all  the  ideas  that  new  circumstance  strikes 
from  Time.  I  have  meditated  on  what  thou  sayest  Pausanias 
may  scheme.  It  is  true  that  the  invasion  of  the  Mede  must 
tend  to  raise  up  one  State  in  Greece  to  which  the  others  will 
look  for  a  head.  I  have  asked  myself,  Can  Sparta  be  that 
State?  and  my  reason  tells  me.  No.  Sparta  is  lost  if  she 
attempt  it.  She  may  become  something  else,  but  she  cannot 
be  Sparta.  Such  a  State  must  become  maritime,  and  depend 
on  fleets.  Our  inland  situation  forbids  this.  True,  we  have 
ports  in  which  the  Perioeci  flourish ;  but  did  we  use  them  for 

23 


a54  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

a  permanent  policy,  the  Perioeci  must  become  our  masters. 
These  five  villages  would  be  abandoned  for  a  mart  on  the  sea- 
shore. This  mother  of  men  would  be  no  more.  A  State  that 
so  aspires  must  have  ample  wealth  at  its  command.  We  have 
none.  We  might  raise  tribute  from  other  Greek  cities;  but 
for  that  purpose  we  must  have  fleets  again,  to  overawe  and 
compel,  for  no  tribute  will  be  long  voluntary.  A  State  that 
would  be  the  active  governor  of  Hellas  must  have  lives  to 
spare  in  abundance.  We  have  none,  unless  we  always  do 
hereafter  as  we  did  at  Platsea,  —  raise  an  army  of  Helots ; 
seven  Helots  to  one  Spartan.  How  long,  if  we  did  so,  would 
the  Helots  obey  us,  and  meanwhile  how  would  our  lands  be 
cultivated?  A  State  that  would  be  the  centre  of  Greece, 
must  cultivate  all  that  can  charm  and  allure  strangers.  We 
banish  strangers,  and  what  charms  and  allures  them  would 
womanize  us.  More  than  all,  a  State  that  would  obtain  the 
sympathies  of  the  turbulent  Hellenic  populations  must  have 
the  most  popular  institutions.  It  must  be  governed  by  a 
Demus.  We  are  an  Oligarchic  Aristocracy,  —  a  disciplined 
camp  of  warriors,  not  a  licentious  agora.  Therefore,  Sparta 
cannot  assume  the  head  of  a  Greek  confederacy,  except  in  the 
rare  seasons  of  actual  war ;  and  the  attempt  to  make  her  the 
head  of  such  a  confederacy  would  cause  changes  so  repugnant 
to  our  manners  and  habits  that  it  would  be  fraught  with 
destruction  to  him  who  made  the  attempt,  or  to  us  if  he  suc- 
ceeded. Wherefore,  to  sum  up,  the  ambition  of  Pausanias  is 
in  this  impracticable,  and  must  be  opposed." 

"And  Athens,"  cried  Lysander,  with  a  slight  pang  of  natural 
and  national  jealousy,  —  "  Athens,  then,  must  wrest  from  Pau- 
sanias the  hegemony  he  now  holds  for  Sparta,  and  Athens 
must  be  what  the  Athenian  ambition  covets." 

"We  cannot  help  it,  — she  must;  but  can  it  last?  Impossi- 
ble !  And  woe  to  her  if  she  ever  comes  in  contact  with  the 
bronze  of  Laconian  shields.  But  in  the  mean  while  what  is 
to  be  done  with  this  great  and  awful  Heracleid?  They  accuse 
him  of  medizing,  of  secret  conspiracy  with  Persia  itself.  Can 
that  be  possible?  " 

"If  so,  it  is  but  to  use  Persia  on  behalf  of  Sparta.     If  he 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  355 

would  subdue  Greece,  it  is  not  for  the  King,  it  is  for  the  race 
of  Hercules." 

"Ay,  ay,  ay,"  cried  Agesilaus,  shading  his  face  with  his 
hand.  "  All  becomes  clear  to  me  now.  Listen.  Did  I  openly 
defend  Pausanias  before  the  ephors,  I  should  injure  his  cause. 
But  when  they  talk  of  his  betraying  Hellas  and  Sparta,  I 
place  before  them  nakedly  and  broadly  their  duty  if  that 
charge  be  true.  For  if  true,  O  my  son,  Pausanias  must  die 
as  criminals  die." 

"Die!  criminal!  a  Heracleid!  king's  blood!  the  victor  of 
Plataea,  —  my  friend  Pausanias ! " 

"  Rather  he  than  Sparta.     What  sayest  thou?  " 

"Neither,  neither,"  exclaimed  Lysander,  wringing  his 
hands ;    "  impossible  both ! " 

"  Impossible  both,  be  it  so !  I  place  before  the  ephors  the 
terrors  of  accrediting  that  charge,  in  order  that  they  may 
repudiate  it.  For  the  lesser  ones  it  matters  not ;  he  is  in  no 
danger  there,  save  that  of  fine.  And  his  gold,"  added  Agesi- 
laus, with  a  curved  lip  of  disdain,  "will  both  condemn  and 
save  him.  For  the  rest,  I  would  spare  him  the  dishonour  of 
being  publicly  recalled,  and  to  say  truth,  I  would  save  Sparta 
the  peril  she  might  incur  from  his  wrath  if  she  inflicted  on 
him  that  slight.  But  mark  me,  he  himself  must  resign  his 
command  voluntarily,  and  return  to  Sparta.  Better  so  for 
him  and  his  pride,  for  he  cannot  keep  the  hegemony  against 
the  will  of  the  lonians,  whose  fleet  is  so  much  larger  than 
ours,  and  it  is  to  his  gain  if  his  successor  lose  it,  not  he. 
But  better,  not  only  for  his  pride,  but  for  his  glory  and  his 
name,  that  he  should  come  from  these  scenes  of  fierce  temp- 
tation, and,  since  birth  made  him  a  Spartan,  learn  here  again 
to  conform  to  what  he  cannot  change.  I  have  spoken  thus 
plainly  to  thee.  Use  the  words  I  have  uttered  as  thou  best 
may,  after  thy  return  to  Pausanias,  which  I  will  strive  to 
make  speedy.  But  while  we  talk,  there  goes  on  danger,  — 
danger  still  of  his  abrupt  recall ;  for  there  are  those  who  will 
seize  every  excuse  for  it.  Enough  of  these  grave  matters: 
the  sun  is  sinking  towards  the  west,  and  thy  companions 
await  thee  at  thy  feast;  mine  will  be  eager  to  greet  me  on 


356  PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN. 

thy  return,  and  tliy  little  brothers,  who  go  with  me  to  my 
pheidition,  will  hear  thee  so  praised  that  they  will  long  for 
the  crypteia,  —  long  to  be  men,  and  find  some  future  Platsea 
for  themselves.  May  the  Gods  forbid  it!  War  is  a  terrible 
unsettler.  Time  saps  States  as  a  tide  the  cliff.  War  is  an 
inundation,  and  when  it  ebbs,  a  landmark  has  vanished." 


CHAPTER  V. 

Nothing  so  largely  contributed  to  the  peculiar  character  of 
Spartan  society  as  the  uniform  custom  of  taking  the  principal 
meal  at  a  public  table.  It  conduced  to  four  objects, — the 
precise  status  of  aristocracy,  since  each  table  was  formed 
according  to  title  and  rank;  equality  among  aristocrats, 
since  each  at  the  same  table  was  held  the  equal  of  the 
other  J  military  union,  for  as  they  feasted,  so  they  fought, 
being  formed  into  divisions  in  the  field  according  as  they 
messed  together  at  home ;  and,  lastly,  that  sort  of  fellowship 
in  public  opinion  which  intimate  association  amongst  those  of 
the  same  rank  and  habit  naturally  occasions.  These  tables  in 
Sparta  were  supplied  by  private  contributions :  each  head  of  a 
family  was  obliged  to  send  a  certain  portion  at  his  own  cost, 
and  according  to  the  number  of  his  children.  If  his  fortune 
did  not  allow  him  to  do  this,  he  was  excluded  from  the  public 
tables.  Hence  a  certain  fortune  was  indispensable  to  the 
pure  Spartan,  and  this  was  one  reason  why  it  was  permitted 
to  expose  infants  if  the  family  threatened  to  be  too  large  for 
the  father's  means.  The  general  arrangements  were  divided 
into  syssitia,  according,  perhaps,  to  the  number  of  families 
and  correspondent  to  the  divisions,  or  obes,  acknowledged  by 
the  State.  But  these  larger  sections  were  again  subdivided 
into  companies,  or  clubs,  of  fifteen,  vacancies  being  filled  up 
by  ballot;  but  one  vote  could  exclude.  And  since,  as  we  have 
said,  the  companies  were  marshalled  in  the  field  according  to 
their  association  at  the  table,  it  is  clear  that  fathers  of  grave 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  357 

years  and  of  high  station  (station  in  Sparta  increased  with 
years)  could  not  have  belonged  to  the  same  table  as  the  young 
men,  their  sons.  Their  boys  under  a  certain  age  they  took  to 
their  own  pheiditia,  where  the  children  sat  upon  a  lower 
bench,  and  partook  of  the  simplest  dishes  of  the  fare. 

Though  the  cheer  at  these  public  tables  was  habitually 
plain,  yet  upon  occasion  it  was  enriched  by  presents  to  the 
after -course  of  game  and  fruit. 

Lysander  was  received  by  his  old  comrades  with  that  cor- 
diality in  which  was  mingled  for  the  first  time  a  certain  manly 
respect,  due  to  feats  in  battle,  and  so  flattering  to  the  young. 

The  prayer  to  the  Gods,  correspondent  to  the  modern  grace, 
and  the  pious  libations  being  concluded,  the  attendant  Helots 
served  the  black  broth,  and  the  party  fell  to,  with  the  appe- 
tite produced  by  hardy  exercise  and  mountain  air. 

"  What  do  the  allies  say  to  the  black  broth?  "  asked  a  young 
Spartan. 

"They  do  not  comprehend  its  merits,"  answered  Lysander. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Everything  in  the  familiar  life  to  which  he  had  returned, 
delighted  the  young  Lysander.  But  for  anxious  thoughts 
about  Pausanias,  he  would  have  been  supremely  blessed.  To 
him  the  various  scenes  of  his  early  years  brought  no  associa- 
tions of  the  restraint  and  harshness  which  revolted  the  more 
luxurious  nature  and  the  fiercer  genius  of  Pausanias.  The 
plunge  into  the  frigid  waters  of  Eurotas,  the  sole  bath  per- 
mitted to  the  Spartans  ^  at  a  time  when  the  rest  of  Greece  had 
already  carried  the  art  of  bathing  into  voluptuous  refinement; 
the  sight  of  the  vehement  contests  of  the  boys,  drawn  up  as 
in  battle,  at  the  game  of  football,  or  in  detached  engage- 
ments, sparing  each  other  so  little  that  the  popular  belief  out 

1  Except  occasionally  the  dry  sudorific  bath,  all  warm  bathing  was  strictly 
forbidden  as  enervating. 


358  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

of  Sparta  was  that  they  were  permitted  to  tear  out  each 
other's  eyes,*  but  subjecting  strength  to  every  skilful  art 
that  gymnastics  could  teach;  the  mimic  war  on  the  island, 
near  the  antique  trees  of  the  Plane  Garden,  waged  with 
weapons  of  wood  and  blunted  iron,  and  the  march  regulated 
to  the  music  of  flutes  and  lyres;  nay,  even  the  sight  of  the 
stern  altar,  at  which  boys  had  learned  to  bear  the  anguish  of 
stripes  without  a  murmur,  —  all  produced  in  this  primitive 
and  intensely  national  intelligence  an  increased  admiration 
for  the  ancestral  laws  which,  carrying  patience,  fortitude, 
address,  and  strength  to  the  utmost  perfection,  had  formed  a 
handful  of  men  into  the  calm  lords  of  a  fierce  population,  and 
placed  the  fenceless  villages  of  Sparta  beyond  a  fear  of  the 
external  assaults  and  the  civil  revolutions  which  perpetually 
stormed  the  citadels  and  agitated  the  market-places  of  Hel- 
lenic cities.  His  was  not  the  mind  to  perceive  that  much  was 
relinquished  for  the  sake  of  that  which  was  gained,  or  to 
comprehend  that  there  was  more  which  consecrates  humanity 
in  one  stormy  day  of  Athens  than  in  a  serene  century  of  iron 
Lacedsemon.  But  there  is  ever  beauty  of  soul  where  there  is 
enthusiastic  love  of  country;  and  the  young  Spartan  was  wise 
in  his  own  Dorian  way. 

The  religious  festival  which  had  provided  the  ephors  with 
an  excuse  for  delaying  their  answer  to  the  Ionian  envoys  occu- 
pied the  city.  The  youths  and  the  maidens  met  in  the  sacred 
chorus;  and  Lysander,  standing  by  amidst  the  gazers,  sud- 
denly felt  his  heart  beat.  A  boy  pulled  him  by  the  skirt  of 
his  mantle. 

"Lysander,  hast  thou  yet  scolded  Percalus?"  said  the  boy's 
voice,  archly. 

"My  young  friend,"  answered  Lysander,  colouring  high, 
"Percalus  hath  vouchsafed  me  as  yet  no  occasion;  and, 
indeed,  she  alone,  of  all  the  friends  whom  I  left  behind, 
does  not  seem  to  recognize  me." 

1  An  evident  exaggeration.  The  Spartans  had  too  great  a  regard  for  the 
physical  gifts  as  essential  to  warlike  uses,  to  permit  cruelties  that  would  have 
blinded  their  young  warriors.  And  they  even  forbade  the  practice  of  the 
pancratium  as  ferocious  and  needlessly  dangerous  to  life. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  359 

His  eyes,  as  he  spoke,  rested,  witli  a  mute  reproacli  in 
their  gaze,  on  the  form  of  a  virgin  who  had  just  paused  in 
the  choral  dance,  and  whose  looks  were  bent  obdurately 
on  the  ground.  Her  luxuriant  hair  was  drawn  upward  from 
cheek  and  brow,  braided  into  a  knot  at  the  crown  of  the  head, 
in  the  fashion  so  trying  to  those  who  have  neither  bloom  nor 
beauty,  so  exquisitely  becoming  to  those  who  have  bothj  and 
the  maiden,  even  amid  Spartan  girls,  was  pre-eminently 
lovely.  It  is  true  that  the  sun  had  somewhat  embrowned 
the  smooth  cheek;  but  the  stately  throat  and  the  rounded 
arms  were  admirably  fair,  —  not,  indeed,  with  the  pale  and 
dead  whiteness  which  the  Ionian  women  sought  to  obtain  by 
art,  but  with  the  delicate  rose-hue  of  Hebe's  youth.  Her 
garment,  of  snow-white  wool,  fastened  over  both  shoulders 
with  large  golden  clasps,  was  without  sleeves,  fitting  not  too 
tightly  to  the  harmonious  form,  and  leaving  more  than  the 
ankle  free  to  the  easy  glide  of  the  dance.  Taller  than  Hel- 
lenic women  usually  were,  but  about  the  average  height  of  her 
Spartan  companions,  her  shape  was  that  which  the  sculptors 
give  to  Artemis.  Light  and  feminine  and  virginlike,  but 
with  all  the  rich  vitality  of  a  divine  youth,  with  a  force,  not 
indeed  of  a  man,  but  such  as  art  would  give  to  the  goddess 
whose  step  bounds  over  the  mountain  top,  and  whose  arm  can 
launch  the  shaft  from  the  silver  bow,  —  yet  was  there  some- 
thing in  the  mien  and  face  of  Percalus  more  subdued  and 
bashful  than  in  those  of  most  of  the  girls  around  her;  and  as 
if  her  ear  had  caught  Lysander's  words,  a  smile  just  now 
played  round  her  lips,  and  gave  to  all  the  countenance  a 
wonderful  sweetness.  Then,  as  it  became  her  turn  once  more 
to  join  in  the  circling  measure,  she  lifted  her  eyes,  directed 
them  full  upon  the  young  Spartan,  and  the  eyes  said  plainly, 
"  Ungrateful !     I  forget  thee,  -—  I !  " 

It  was  but  one  glance,  and  she  seemed  again  wholly  intent 
upon  the  dance;  but  Lysander  felt  as  if  he  had  tasted  the 
nectar  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  courts  of  the  Gods.  No 
further  approach  was  made  by  either,  although  intervals  in 
the  evening  permitted  it.  But  if  on  the  one  hand  there  was 
in  Sparta  an  intercourse  between  the  youth  of  both  sexes 


860  PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN. 

wholly  unknown  in  most  of  the  Grecian  States,  and  if  that 
intercourse  made  marriages  of  love  especially  more  common 
there  than  elsewhere,  yet  when  love  did  actually  exist,  and 
was  acknowledged  by  some  young  pair,  they  shunned  public 
notice;  the  passion  became  a  secret,  or  confidants  to  it  were 
few.  Then  came  the  charm  of  stealth,  —  to  woo  and  to  win, 
as  if  the  treasure  were  to  be  robbed  by  a  lover  from  the  heaven 
unknown  to  man.  Accordingly,  Lysander  now  mixed  with 
the  spectators,  conversed  cheerfully,  only  at  distant  intervals 
permitted  his  eyes  to  turn  to  Percalus,  and  when  her  part  in 
the  chorus  had  concluded,  a  sign,  undetected  by  others,  seemed 
to  have  been  exchanged  between  them,  and,  a  little  while  after, 
Lysander  had  disappeared  from  the  assembly. 

He  wandered  down  the  street  called  the  Aphetais,  and  after 
a  little  while  the  way  became  perfectly  still  and  lonely;  for 
the  inhabitants  had  crowded  to  the  sacred  festival,  and  the 
houses  lay  quiet  and  scattered.  So  he  went  on,  passing  the 
ancient  temple  in  which  Ulysses  is  said  to  have  dedicated  a 
statue  in  honour  of  his  victory  in  the  race  over  the  suitors  of 
Penelope,  and  paused  where  the  ground  lay  bare  and  rugged 
around  many  a  monument  to  the  fabled  chiefs  of  the  heroic 
age.  Upon  a  crag  that  jutted  over  a  silent  hollow  covered 
with  oleander  and  arbute,  and  here  and  there  the  wild-rose, 
the  young  lover  sat  down,  waiting  patiently ;  for  the  eyes  of 
Percalus  had  told  him  he  should  not  wait  in  vain.  Afar  he 
saw,  in  the  exceeding  clearness  of  the  atmosphere,  the  Taena- 
rium,  or  Temple  of  Neptune,  unprophetic  of  the  dark  connec- 
tion that  shrine  would  hereafter  have  with  him  whom  he  then 
honoured  as  a  chief  worthy,  after  death,  of  a  monument  amidst 
those  heroes ;  and  the  gale  that  cooled  his  forehead  wandered 
to  him  from  the  field  of  the  Hellanium,  in  which  the  envoys 
of  Greece  had  taken  counsel  how  to  oppose  the  march  of 
Xerxes,  when  his  myriads  first  poured  into  Europe. 

Alas !  all  the  great  passions  that  di£tinguish  race  from  race 
pass  away  in  the  tide  of  generations.  The  enthusiasm  of  soul 
which  gives  us  heroes  and  demigods  for  ancestors,  and  hal- 
lows their  empty  tombs;  the  vigour  of  thoughtful  freedom 
which  guards  the  soil  from  invasion,  and  shivers  force  upon 


PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN.  361 

the  edge  of  intelligence;  the  heroic  age  and  the  civilized  alike 
depart ;  and  he  who  wanders  through  the  glens  of  Laconia  can 
scarcely  guess  where  was  the  monument  of  Lelex,  or  the  field 
of  the  Hellanium.  And  yet  on  the  same  spot  where  sat  the 
young  Spartan  warrior,  waiting  for  the  steps  of  the  beloved 
one,  may,  at  this  very  hour,  some  rustic  lover  be  seated,  with 
a  heart  beating  with  like  emotions,  and  an  ear  listening  for  as 
light  a  tread.  Love  alone  never  passes  away  from  the  spot 
where  its  footstep  hath  once  pressed  the  earth  and  reclaimed 
the  savage.  Traditions,  freedom,  the  thirst  for  glory,  art,  laws, 
creeds,  vanish ;  but  the  eye  thrills  the  breast,  and  hand  warms 
to  hand,  as  before  the  name  of  Lycurgus  was  heard,  or  Helen 
was  borne  a  bride  to  the  home  of  Menelaus.  Under  the  influ- 
ence of  this  power,  then,  something  of  youth  is  still  retained 
by  nations  the  most  worn  with  time.  But  the  power  thus 
eternal  in  nations  is  shortlived  for  the  individual  being. 
Brief  indeed  in  the  life  of  each  is  that  season  which  lasts 
forever  in  the  life  of  all.  From  the  old  age  of  nations  glory 
fades  away;  but  in  their  utmost  decrepitude  there  is  still  a 
generation  young  enough  to  love.  To  the  individual  man, 
however,  glory  alone  remains  when  the  snows  of  ages  have 
fallen,  and  love  is  but  the  memory  of  a  boyish  dream.  No 
wonder  that  the  Greek  genius,  half  incredulous  of  the  soul, 
clung  with  such  tenacity  to  Youth.  What  a  sigh  from  the 
heart  of  the  old  sensuous  world  breathes  in  the  strain  of 
Mimnermus,  bewailing  with  so  fierce  and  so  deep  a  sorrow 
the  advent  of  the  years  in  which  man  is  loved  no  more ! 

Lysander's  eye  was  still  along  the  solitary  road  when  he 
heard  a  low,  musical  laugh  behind  him.  He  started  in  sur- 
prise, and  beheld  Percalus.  Her  mirth  was  increased  by  his 
astonished  gaze  till,  in  revenge,  he  caught  both  her  hands, 
and  drawing  her  towards  him,  kissed,  not  without  a  struggle, 
the  lips  into  serious  gravity. 

Extricating  herself  from  him,  the  maiden  put  on  an  air  of 
offended  dignity,  and  Lysander,  abashed  at  his  own  audacity, 
muttered  some  broken  words  of  penitence. 

"But,  indeed,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  the  cloud  vanishing 
from  her  brow,  "indeed  thou  wert  so  provoking,  and  so  irre- 


362  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

sistibly  beauteous.  And  how  earnest  thou  here,  as  if  thou 
hadst  dropped  from  the  heavens?  " 

"Didst  thou  think,"  answered  Percalus,  demurely,  "that  I 
could  be  suspected  of  following  thee?  Nay;  I  tarried  till 
I  could  accompany  Euryclea  to  her  home  yonder,  and  then, 
slipping  from  her  by  her  door,  I  came  across  the  grass  and 
the  glen  to  search  for  the  arrow  shot  yesterday  in  the  hollow 
below  thee."  So  saying,  she  tripped  from  the  crag  by  his 
side  into  the  nooked  recess  below,  which  was  all  out  of  sight, 
in  case  some  passenger  should  pass  the  road,  and  where,  stoop- 
ing down,  she  seemed  to  busy  herself  in  searching  for  the 
shaft  amidst  the  odorous  shrubs. 

Lysander  was  not  slow  in  following  her  footstep. 

"Thine  arrow  is  here,"  said  he,  placing  his  hand  to  his 
heart. 

"Fie!     The  Ionian  poets  teach  thee  these  compliments." 

"Not  so.  Who  hath  sung  more  of  Love  and  his  arrows 
than  our  own  Alcman?  " 

"Mean  you  the  regent's  favourite  brother?" 

"  Oh,  no !  The  ancient  Alcman,  —  the  poet  whom  even  the 
ephors  sanction." 

Percalus  ceased  to  seek  for  the  arrow,  and  they  seated 
themselves  on  a  little  knoll  in  the  hollow,  side  by  side,  and 
frankly  she  gave  him  her  hand,  and  listened,  with  rosy  cheek 
and  rising  bosom,  to  his  honest  wooing.  He  told  her,  truly, 
how  her  image  had  been  with  him  in  the  strange  lands ;  how 
faithful  he  had  been  to  the  absent,  amidst  all  the  beauties  of 
the  Isles  and  of  the  East.  He  reminded  her  of  their  early 
days,  —  how,  even  as  children,  each  had  sought  the  other. 
He  spoke  of  his  doubts,  his  fears,  lest  he  should  find  himself 
forgotten  or  replaced ;  and  how  overjoyed  he  had  been  when 
at  last  her  eye  replied  to  his. 

"  And  we  understood  each  other  so  well,  did  we  not,  Perca- 
lus? Here  we  have  so  often  met  before;  here  we  parted  last; 
here  thou  knewest  I  should  go;  here  I  knew  that  I  might 
await  thee." 

Percalus  did  not  answer  at  much  length,  but  what  she  said 
sufficed  to  enchant  her  lover;  for  the  education  of  a  Spartan 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  863 

maid  did  not  favour  the  affected  concealment  of  real  feelings. 
It  could  not,  indeed,  banish  what  Nature  prescribes  to  women, 
—  the  modest  self-esteem,  the  difficulty  to  utter  by  word  what 
eye  and  blush  reveal,  —  nor,  perhaps,  something  of  that  arch 
and  innocent  malice  which  enjoys  to  taste  the  power  which 
beauty  exercises  before  the  warm  heart  will  freely  acknowl- 
edge the  power  which  sways  itself.  But  the  girl,  though  a 
little  wilful  and  high-spirited,  was  a  candid,  pure,  and  noble 
creature,  and  too  proud  of  being  loved  by  Lysander  to  feel 
more  than  a  maiden's  shame  to  confess  her  own. 

"And  when  I  return,"  said  the  Spartan,  "ah,  then  look  out 
and  take  care;  for  I  shall  speak  to  thy  father,  gain  his  con- 
sent to  our  betrothal,  and  then  carry  thee  away,  despite  all 
thy  struggles,  to  the  bridesmaid,  and  these  long  locks,  alas! 
will  fall." 

"  I  thank  thee  for  thy  warning,  and  will  find  my  arrow  in 
time  to  guard  myself,"  said  Percalus,  turning  away  her  face, 
but  holding  up  her  hand  in  pretty  menace.  "  But  where  is 
the  arrow?     I  must  make  haste  and  find  it." 

"  Thou  wilt  have  time  enough,  courteous  Amazon,  in  mine 
absence,  for  I  must  soon  return  to  Byzantium." 

Percalus.  —  "Art  thou  so  sure  of  that  ?  " 

Lysander.  —  "  Why,  dost  thou  doubt  it  ?  " 

Percalus  (rising ,  and  moving  the  arhute  boughs  aside  with 
the  tip  of  her  sandal.)  — "And  unless  thou  wouldst  wait  very 
long  for  my  father's  consent,  perchance  thou  mayst  have  to 
ask  for  it  very  soon,  —  too  soon  to  prepare  thy  courage  for  so 
great  a  peril." 

Lysander  (perplexed).  —  "What  canst  thou  mean?  By  all 
the  Gods,  I  pray  thee  speak  plain." 

Percalus.  —  "  If  Pausanias  be  recalled,  wouldst  thou  still 
go  to  Byzantium?" 

Lysander.  —  "  No ;  but  I  think  the  ephors  have  decided 
not  so  to  discredit  their  general." 

Percalus  (shaking  her  head  incredulously).  —  "Count  not 
on  their  decision  so  surely,  valiant  warrior ;  and  suppose  that 
Pausanias  is  recalled,  and  that  some  one  else  is  sent  in  his 
place  whose  absence  would  prevent  thy  obtaining  that  consent 


364  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

thou  covetest,  and  so  frustrate  thy  designs  on  —  on  [she  added, 
blushing  scarlet]  — on  these  poor  locks  of  mine." 

Lysander  {starting).  — ''Oh,  Percalus,  do  I  conceive  thee 
aright?  Hast  thou  any  reason  to  think  that  thy  father, 
Dorcis,  will  be  sent  to  replace  Pausanias,  —  the  great 
Pausanias ! " 

Percalus  (a  little  offended  at  a  tone  of  expression  which 
seemed  to  slight  her  father^ s  pretensions) »  —  "Dorcis,  my 
father,  is  a  warrior  whom  Sparta  reckons  second  to  none,  —  a 
most  brave  captain,  and  every  inch  a  Spartan;  but  —  but  —  " 

Lysander. — "Percalus,  do  not  trifle  with  me.  Thou 
knowest  how  my  fate  has  been  linked  to  the  regent's.  Thou 
must  have  intelligence  not  shared  even  by  my  father,  himself 
an  ephor.     What  is  it?  " 

Percalus.  —  "Thou  wilt  be  secret,  my  Lysander;  for  what 
I  may  tell  thee  I  can  only  learn  at  the  hearthstone." 

Lysander.  —  "  Fear  me  not.  Is  not  all  between  us  a  secret?  " 

Percalus.  —  "  Well,  then,  Periclides  and  my  father,  as 
thou  art  aware,  are  near  kinsmen.  And  when  the  Ionian  envoys 
first  arrived,  it  was  my  father  who  was  specially  appointed  to 
see  to  their  fitting  entertainment.  And  that  same  night  I 
overheard  Dorcis  say  to  my  mother,  *If  I  could  succeed  Pau- 
sanias, and  conclude  this  war,  I  should  be  consoled  for  not 
having  commanded  at  Plataea.'  And  my  mother,  who  is 
proud  for  her  husband's  glory,  as  a  woman  should  be,  said, 
*Why  not  strain  every  nerve,  as  for  a  crown  in  Olympia? 
Periclides  will  aid  thee;  thou  wilt  win.'  " 

Lysander.  —  "  But  that  was  the  first  night  of  the  lonians' 
arrival." 

Percalus.  — "  Since  then  I  believe  that  thy  father  and 
others  of  the  ephors  overruled  Periclides  and  Zeuxidamus,  for 
I  have  heard  all  that  passed  between  my  father  and  mother  on 
the  subject.  But  early  this  morning,  while  my  mother  was  as- 
sisting to  attire  me  for  the  festival,  Periclides  himself  called 
at  our  house ;  and  before  I  came  from  home,  my  mother,  after 
a  short  conference  with  Dorcis,  said  to  me,  in  the  exuberance 
of  her  joy:  'Go,  child,  and  call  here  all  the  maidens,  as  thy 
father  ere  long  will  go  to  outshine  all  the  Grecian  chiefs.' 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  365 

So  that  if  my  father  does  go,  thou  wilt  remain  in  Sparta. 
Then,  my  beloved  Lysander  —  and  —  and —  But  what  ails 
thee?    Is  that  thought  so  sorrowful?  " 

Lysander.  —  "  Pardon  me,  —  pardon ;  thou  art  a  Spartan 
maid;  thou  must  comprehend  what  should  be  felt  by  a  Spar- 
tan soldier  when  he  thinks  of  humiliation  and  ingratitude  to 
his  chief.  Gods !  the  man  who  rolled  back  the  storm  of  the 
Mede  to  be  insulted  in  the  face  of  Hellas  by  the  government 
of  his  native  city !  The  blush  of  shame  upon  his  cheek  burns 
my  own." 

The  warrior  bowed  his  face  in  his  clasped  hands. 

Not  a  resentful  thought  natural  to  female  vanity  and  exact- 
ing affection  then  crossed  the  mind  of  the  Spartan  girl.  She 
felt  at  once,  by  the  sympathy  of  kindred  nurture,  all  that  was 
torturing  her  lover.  She  was  even  prouder  of  him  that  he 
forgot  her  for  the  moment  to  be  so  truthful  to  his  chief;  and 
abandoning  the  innocent  coyness  she  had  before  shown,  she 
put  her  arm  round  his  neck  with  a  pure  and  sisterly  fondness, 
and,  kissing  his  brow,  whispered  soothingly,  "  It  is  for  me  to 
ask  pardon  that  I  did  not  think  of  this,  that  I  spoke  so  fool- 
ishly; but  comfort  —  thy  chief  is  not  disgraced  even  by  recall. 
Let  them  recall  Pausanias,  they  cannot  recall  his  glory. 
When,  in  Sparta,  did  we  ever  hold  a  brave  man  discredited 
by  obedience  to  the  government?  None  are  disgraced  who  do 
not  disgrace  themselves." 

"Ah,  my  Percalus,  so  I  should  say;  but  so  will  not  think 
Pausanias,  nor  the  allies ;  and  in  this  slight  to  him  I  see  the 
shadow  of  the  Erinnys.  But  it  may  not  be  true  yet,  nor  can 
Periclides  of  himself  dispose  thus  of  the  Lacedaemonian 
armies." 

"We  will  hope  so,  dear  Lysander,"  said  Percalus,  who, 
bom  to  be  man's  helpmate,  then  only  thought  of  consoling 
and  cheering  him.  "And  if  thou  dost  return  to  the  camp, 
tarry  as  long  as  thou  wilt,  thou  wilt  find  Percalus  the  same." 

"The  Gods  bless  thee,  maiden!"  said  Lysander,  with 
grateful  passion,  "and  blessed  be  the  State  that  rears  such 
women;  elsewhere  Greece  knows  them  not." 

"And  does  Greece  elsewhere  know  such  men?"  asked  Per- 


366  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 

calus,  raising  her  graceful  head.  "But  so  late,  — is  it  possi- 
ble? See  where  the  shadows  are  falling!  Thou  wilt  but  be 
in  time  for  thy  pheidition.     Farewell." 

"But  when  to  meet  again?" 

"Alas!  when  we  can."  She  sprang  lightly  away;  then, 
turning  her  face  as  she  fled,  added,  "Look  out!  thou  wert 
taught  to  steal  in  thy  boyhood,  —  steal  an  interview.  I  will 
be  thy  accomplice." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

That  night,  as  Agesilaus  was  leaving  the  public  table  at 
which  he  supped,  Periclides,  who  was  one  of  the  same  com- 
pany, but  who  had  been  unusually  silent  during  the  entertain- 
ment, approached  him  and  said,  "Let  us  walk  towards  thy 
home  together;  the  moon  is  up,  and  will  betray  listeners  to 
our  converse,  should  there  be  any." 

"And  in  default  of  the  moon,  thy  years,  if  not  yet  mine, 
permit  thee  a  lantern,  Periclides." 

"I  have  not  drunk  enough  to  need  it,"  answered  the  chief 
of  the  ephors,  with  unusual  pleasantry ;  "  but  as  thou  art  the 
younger  man,  I  will  lean  on  thine  arm,  so  as  to  be  closer  to 
thine  ear." 

"Thou  hast  something  secret  and  grave  to  say,  then?" 

Periclides  nodded. 

As  they  ascended  the  rugged  acclivity,  different  groups, 
equally  returning  home  from  the  public  tables,  passed  them. 
Though  the  sacred  festival  had  given  excuse  for  prolonging 
the  evening  meal,  and  the  wine-cup  had  been  replenished 
beyond  the  abstemious  wont,  still  each  little  knot  of  revellers 
passed  and  dispersed  in  a  sober  and  decorous  quiet  which  per- 
haps no  other  eminent  city  in  Greece  could  have  exhibited; 
young  and  old  equally  grave  and  noiseless.  For  the  Spartan 
youth,  no  fair  Hetserae  then  opened  homes  adorned  with  flow- 
ers and  gay  with  wit  no  less  than  alluring  with  Beauty ;  but 
as  the  streets  grew  more  deserted,  there  stood  in  the  thick 


I 


PAUSANIAS   THE  SPARTAN".  867 

shadow  of  some  angle,  or  glided  furtively  by  some  winding 
wall,  a  bridegroom  lover,  tarrying  till  all  was  still,  to  steal 
to  the  arms  of  the  lawful  wife,  whom  for  years  perhaps  he 
might  not  openly  acknowledge,  and  carry  in  triumph  to  his 
home. 

But  not  of  such  young  adventurers  thought  the  sage  Peri- 
clides,  though  his  voice  was  as  low  as  a  lover's  "hist!"  and 
his  step  as  stealthy  as  a  bridegroom's  tread. 

"My  friend,"  said  he,  "with  the  faint  gray  of  the  dawn 
there  comes  to  my  house  a  new  messenger  from  the  camp,  and 
the  tidings  he  brings  change  all  our  decisions.  The  Festival 
does  not  permit  us  as  ephors  to  meet  in  public,  or,  at  least,  I 
think  thou  wilt  agree  with  me  it  is  more  prudent  not  to  do  so. 
All  we  should  do  now  should  be  in  strict  privacy." 

"But  hush!  from  whom  the  message,  — Pausanias?" 

"No;  from  Aristides  the  Athenian." 

"And  to  what  effect?" 

"The  Ionian s  have  revolted  from  the  Spartan  hegemony, 
and  ranged  themselves  under  the  Athenian  flag." 

"Gods!  what  I  feared  has  already  come  to  pass." 

"And  Aristides  writes  to  me,  with  whom  you  remember 
that  he  has  the  hospitable  ties,  that  the  Athenians  cannot 
abandon  their  Ionian  allies  and  kindred  who  thus  appeal  to 
them,  and  that  if  Pausanias  remain,  open  war  may  break  out 
between  the  two  divisions  into  which  the  fleet  of  Hellas  is 
now  rent." 

"This  must  not  be,  for  it  would  be  war  at  sea;  we  and  the 
Peloponnesians  have  far  the  fewer  vessels,  the  less  able  sea- 
men.    Sparta  would  be  conquered." 

"Rather  than  Sparta  should  be  conquered,  must  we  not 
recall  her  general?" 

"I  would  give  all  my  lands,  and  sink  out  of  the  rank  of 
Equal,  that  this  had  not  chanced,"  said  Agesilaus,  bitterly. 

"Hist!  hist!  not  so  loud." 

"  I  had  hoped  we  might  induce  the  regent  himself  to  resign 
the  command,  and  so  have  been  spared  the  shame  and  the 
pain  of  an  act  that  affects  the  hero-blood  of  our  kings.  Could 
not  that  be  done  yet?  " 


368  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN". 

"Dost  thou  think  so?  Pausanias  resign  in  the  midst  of  a 
mutiny?    Thou  canst  not  know  the  man." 

"  Thou  art  right,  —  impossible.  I  see  no  option  now.  He 
must  be  recalled.  But  the  Spartan  hegemony  is  then  gone,  — 
gone  forever;  gone  to  Athens." 

"  Not  so.  Sparta  hath  many  a  worthy  son  besides  this  too 
arrogant  Heracleid." 

"Yes J  but  where  his  genius  of  command,  where  his 
immense  renown,  where  a  man,  I  say,  not  in  Sparta,  but  in 
all  Greece,  fit  to  cope  with  Aristides  and  Cimon  in  the  camp, 
with  Themistocles  in  the  city  of  our  rivals?  If  Pausanias 
fails,  who  succeeds?" 

"  Be  not  deceived.  What  must  be,  must ;  it  is  but  a  little 
time  earlier  than  Necessity  would  have  fixed.  Wouldst  thou 
take  the  command?" 

"I?    The  Gods  forbid!" 

"Then,  if  thou  wilt  not,  I  know  but  one  man." 

"And  who  is  he?" 

"Dorcis." 

Agesilaus  started,  and  by  the  light  of  the  moon  gazed  full 
upon  the  face  of  the  chief  ephor. 

"Thy  kinsman,  Dorcis?  Ah!  Periclides,  hast  thou  schemed 
this  from  the  first?" 

Periclides  changed  colour  at  finding  himself  thus  abruptly 
detected,  and  as  abruptly  charged ;  however,  he  answered  with 
laconic  dryness,  — 

"Friend,  did  I  scheme  the  revolt  of  the  lonians?  But  if 
thou  knowest  a  better  man  than  Dorcis,  speak.  Is  he  not 
brave?" 

"Yes." 

"Skilful?" 

"No.  Tut!  thou  art  as  conscious  as  I  am  that  thou 
mightest  as  well  compare  the  hat  on  thy  brow  to  the  brain  it 
hides  as  liken  the  stolid  Dorcis  to  the  fiery  but  profound 
Heracleid." 

"Ay,  ay.  But  there  is  one  merit  the  hat  has  which  the 
brow  has  not,  —  it  can  do  no  harm.  Shall  we  send  our  chiefs 
to  be  made  worse  men  by  Eastern  manners?    Dorcis  has  dull 


PAUSANIAS   THE   SPARTAN.  869 

wit,  — granted;  no  arts  can  corrupt  it:  lie  may  not  save  the 
hegemony,  but  he  will  return  as  he  went,  — a  Spartan." 

"Thou  art  right  again,  and  a  wise  man,  Periclides.  I 
submit.  Thou  hast  my  vote  for  Dorcis.  What  else  hast 
thou  designed?  for  I  see  now  that  whatever  thou  designest 
that  wilt  thou  accomplish ;  and  our  meeting  on  the  Archeion 
is  but  an  idle  form." 

"Nay,  nay,"  said  Periclides,  with  his  austere  smile,  "thou 
givest  me  a  wit  and  a  will  that  1  hav-e  not.  But  as  chief  of 
the  ephors  I  watch  over  the  State.  And  though  I  design 
nothing,  this  I  would  counsel,  —  On  the  day  we  answer  the 
lonians,  we  shall  tell  them,  '  What  ye  ask,  we  long  since  pro- 
posed to  do,  and  Dorcis  is  already  on  the  seas  as  successor  to 
Pausanias.' " 

"When  will  Dorcis  leave?"  said  Agesilaus,  curtly. 

"If  the  other  ephors  concur,  to-morrow  night." 

"Here  we  are  at  my  doors:  wilt  thou  not  enter? " 

"  No ;  I  have  others  yet  to  see.  I  knew  we  should  be  of  the 
same  mind." 

Agesilaus  made  no  reply;  but  as  he  entered  the  courtyard 
of  his  house,  he  muttered  uneasily,  — 

"And  if  Lysander  is  right,  and  Sparta  is  too  small  for 
Pausanias,  do  not  we  bring  back  a  giant  who  will  widen  it  to 
his  own  girth,  and  raze  the  old  foundations  to  make  room  for 
the  buildings  he  would  add?" 


(unfinished.) 


24 


870  PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN. 


The  pages  covered  by  the  manuscript  of  this  uncompleted 
story  of  "  Pausanias  "  are  scarcely  more  numerous  than  those 
which  its  author  has  filled  with  the  notes  made  by  him  from 
works  consulted  with  special  reference  to  the  subject  of  it. 
Those  notes  (upon  Greek  and  Persian  antiquities)  are  wholly 
without  interest  for  the  general  public;  they  illustrate  the 
author's  conscientious  industry,  but  they  afford  no  clew  to 
the  plot  of  his  romance.  Under  the  sawdust,  however,  thus 
fallen  in  the  industrial  process  of  an  imaginative  work  unhap- 
pily unfinished,  I  have  found  two  specimens  of  original  com- 
position. They  are  rough  sketches  of  songs  expressly 
composed  for  "  Pausanias ; ''  and  since  they  are  not  included 
in  the  foregoing  portion  of  it,  I  think  they  may  properly  be 
added  here.  The  unrhymed  lyrics  introduced  by  my  father 
into  some  of  the  opening  chapters  of  this  romance  appear  to 
have  been  suggested  by  some  fragments  of  Mimnermus,  and 
composed  about  the  same  time  as  "  The  Lost  Tales  of  Mile- 
tus." Indeed,  one  of  them  has  been  already  printed  in  that 
work.  The  following  verses,  however,  which  are  rhymed,  bear 
evidence  of  having  been  composed  at  a  much  earlier  period.  I 
know  not  whether  it  was  my  father's  intention  to  discard  them 
altogether,  or  to  alter  them  materially,  or  to  insert  them,  with- 
out alteration,  in  some  later  portion  of  the  romance;  but  I 
print  them  here  precisely  as  they  are  written. 

L. 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  371 

FOR  PAUSANIAS. 

Partially  harrowed  from  Aristophanes'  '-'•  Peace"  v.  1127,  etc. 

Away,  away,  with  the  helm  and  greaves, 

Away  with  the  leeks  and  cheese ! ' 
I  have  conquered  my  passion  for  wounds  and  blows. 
And  the  worst  that  I  wish  to  the  worst  of  my  foes 
Is  the  glory  and  gain 
Of  a  year's  campaign 
On  a  diet  of  leeks  and  cheese. 


I  love  to  drink  by  my  own  warm  hearth, 
Nourished  with  logs  from  the  pine-clad  heights. 

Which  were  hewn  in  the  blaze  of  the  summer  sun 
To  treasure  his  rays  for  the  winter  nights 

On  the  hearth  where  my  grandam  spun. 

I  love  to  drink  of  the  grape  I  press. 

And  to  drink  with  a  friend  of  yore ; 
Quick !  bring  me  a  bough  from  the  myrtle-tree 

Which  is  budding  afresh  by  Nicander's  door. 
Tell  Nicander  himself  he  must  sup  with  me. 
And  along  with  the  bough  from  his  myrtle-tree 
We  will  circle  the  lute,  in  a  choral  glee 

To  the  goddess  of  corn  and  peace  ; 
For  Nicander  and  I  were  fast  friends  at  school. 
Here  he  comes !    We  are  boys  once  more. 

When  the  grasshopper  chants  in  the  bells  of  thyme 
I  love  to  watch  if  the  Lemniau  grape  2 
Is  donning  the  purple  that  decks  its  prime. 
And,  as  I  sit  at  my  porch  to  see. 
With  my  little  one  trying  to  scale  my  knee, 
To  join  in  the  grasshopper's  chant,  and  sing 
To  Apollo  and  Pan  from  the  heart  of  Spring.^ 
Listen,  oh,  list ! 

1  TupoD  T€  «ol  Kpofjifivav.     Cheese  and  onions,  —  the  rations  furnished  to 
soldiers  in  campaign. 

2  It  ripened  earlier  than  the  others.     The  words  of  the  Chorus  are :  rks 
Arifivias  ajuWAous  eZ  ireiralvova-Lv  ^Stj. 

2  Variation, — 

"  What  a  blessing  is  life  in  a  noon  of  Spring/' 


372  PAUSANIAS  THE   SPARTAN. 

Here  ye  not,  neighbours,  the  voice  of  Peace  ? 
"  The  swallow  I  hear  in  the  household  eaves," 

lo  ^gien  !  Peace  ! 
"  And  the  skylark  at  poise  o'er  the  bended  sheaves,' 

lo  ^gieu !  Peace ! 
Here  and  there,  everywhere,  hear  we  Peace, 
Hear  her,  and  see  her,  and  clasp  her,  — Peace  ! 
The  grasshopper  chants  in  the  bells  of  thyme, 
And  the  halcyon  is  back  to  her  nest  in  Greece  ! 


IN  PRAISE  OF  THE  ATHENIAN  KNIGHTS. 

Imitated  from  the  "Knights"  of  Aristophanes,  v.  565,  etc. 

Chant  the  fame  of  the  Knights,  or  in  war  or  in  peace. 
Chant  the  darlings  of  Athens,^  the  bulwarks  of  Greece; 
Pressing  foremost  to  glory,  on  wave  and  on  shore. 
Where  the  steed  has  no  footing  they  win  with  the  oar.2 

On  their  bosoms  the  battle  splits,  wasting  its  shock ; 
If  they  charge  like  the  whirlwind,  they  stand  like  the  rock. 
Ha !  they  count  not  the  numbers,  they  scan  not  the  ground ; 
When  a  foe  comes  in  sight  on  his  lances  they  bound. 

Fails  a  foot  in  its  speed  ?     Heed  it  not.    One  and  all  ^ 
Spurn  the  earth  that  they  spring  from,  and  own  not  a  fall. 
Oh,  the  darlings  of  Athens,  the  bulwarks  of  Greece, 
Wherefore  envy  the  lovelocks  they  perfume  in  peace  ? 

Wherefore  scowl  if  they  fondle  a  quail  or  a  dove. 
Or  inscribe  on  a  myrtle  the  names  that  they  love  ? 
Does  Alcides  not  teach  us  how  valour  is  mild  ? 
Lo,  at  resf  from  his  labours  he  plays  with  a  child. 

When  the  slayer  of  Python  has  put  down  his  bow. 
By  his  lute  and  his  lovelocks  Apollo  we  know; 
Feared,  O  rowers,  those  gallants  their  beauty  to  spoil 
When  they  sat  on  your  benches  and  shared  in  your  toil  ? 

1  Variation, — 

"  The  adorners  of  Athens,  the  bulwarks  of  Greece." 

2  Variation, — 

"  Keenest  racers  to  glory,  on  wave  or  on  shore, 
By  the  rush  of  the  steed  or  the  stroke  of  the  oar ! " 
^  Variation, — 

"  Falls  there  one?    Never  help  him !    Our  knights  one  and  all." 


PAUSANIAS  THE  SPARTAN.  378 

When  with  laughter  they  rowed  to  your  cry,  "  Hippopai," 
"  On,  ye  coursers  of  wood,  for  the  palm  wreath,  away  ! " 
Did  those  dainty  youths  ask  you  to  store  in  your  holds 
Or  a  cask  from  their  crypt  or  a  lamb  from  their  folds  ? 

No ;  they  cried,  "  We  are  here  both  to  fight  and  to  fast. 
Place  us  first  in  the  fight,  at  the  board  serve  us  last ! 
Wheresoever  is  peril,  we  knights  lead  the  way ; 
Wheresoever  is  hardship,  we  claim  it  as  pay. 

"  Call  us  proud,  0  Athenians,  we  know  it  full  well, 
And  we  give  you  the  life  we  're  too  haughty  to  sell." 
Hail  the  stoutest  in  war,  hail  the  mildest  in  peace. 
Hail  the  darlings  of  Athens,  the  bulwarks  of  Greece ! 


THE   END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
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